Mr Kiss Kiss Bang Bang
by Miss Construed
Summary: Every major foreign government organization has a file on secret agent Eric Northman aka "The Swede." He stops at nothing to get what he's after. He's what every man would like to be and what every woman would like to have between her sheets. AU/AH
1. 1 A Girl Named Red

**AN:** I can't believe I'm diving head first into another fic, but here I am swimming in the deep end. This is a bit of a departure from NOM, so I hope you'll like it.

Mr. Kiss Kiss Bang Bang was the brain baby of a conversation I had with my fabulous beta **Sunkisz. **It sounded like a good idea and then we began sighing and giggling about how much we loved Daniel Craig's blue shorts (oh yeah, you know what I'm talking about), so there you have it.

Many thanks to **S_Meadows** who so kindly (and awesomely) made my very first banner, that just so happens to be for this story. If you haven't seen it yet, it can be found here:

http : // img42 . imageshack . us/img42/2227/kissbang . jpg (remove spaces)

The characters belong to one Ms. Charlaine Harris and one Mr. Ian Fleming. The combination of the two into what you'll read though, is all mine.

Some of the intro is his too – you can't really top it, so why even try?

* * *

**Chapter 1 – A Girl Named Red**

**Martinique - 14 40 N, 61 00 W**

The scent and smoke and sweat of a casino were nauseating at one in the morning. Then the soul-erosion produced by high gambling – a compost of greed and fear and nervous tension – becomes unbearable and the senses awake and revolt from it.

I knew that I was tired, that my senses were dulled. I always knew when my body or my mind had enough, and I always acted on that knowledge. It helped me to avoid staleness and the sensual bluntness that breeds mistakes. I wasn't in a business where I could afford a mistake. A mistake in my career could mean that it was over; that I was over.

I shifted myself unobtrusively for a moment at the Blackjack table. It always was Blackjack. No matter where I went, or what mission I was on, I inevitably ended up at a Blackjack table, staring across at my mark and the parade of beautiful women in his entourage. I say _his_ entourage, because nine times out of ten, my mark was a man. But not tonight.

No, tonight I sat across the table from a beautiful woman, who showed no signs of strain despite having been at the table herself for the last three hours. There was an untidy pile of flecked markers in front of her. In the shadow of her left arm, there nestled a discreet stack of the blue chips, worth a quarter of a million Euros each.

I'd been in Martinique for three days, spending my first night at Casino de la Batelière Plaza and the last two nights here at Casino des Trois. I had seen nothing of interest at the larger casino. The people that moved in Leclerq's circle were loath to attend anything where they would get much attention, nothing too public. It was not surprising that I'd located my target at the smaller, more intimate Casino des Trois.

I had very little information on who I was looking for on this mission. When R had given me my assignment, she had said that my target would be in Martinique, and that they had an affinity for Blackjack. I'd spotted Red the minute I'd stepped into the casino last night. Her body had been dripping with jewels, and she tossed money around as if it were candy. She kept mainly to herself, speaking only with the dealers and cassiers. I watched as she dismissed every man that approached her with a glare of her icy blue eyes, with one curt shake of her head.

There was something intriguing about her, something that made her different from the others I knew that worked for Leclerq. I knew Leclerq liked his women to be beautiful, and Red was undeniably so. I also knew that Leclerq used the women that worked for him inside his organization and inside his bed. This one didn't look like she was keen on sharing anyone's bed, judging from her response to the attention she was getting. She looked like she was on a mission; she looked like she was waiting for someone, and hadn't seen them yet.

I leaned back in my chair to straighten and pull at the cuffs on my tuxedo. I took great pride in looking the part, and it had never failed me. You would have thought that someone of my size and appearance would be known in the international communities; an easy target in the underworlds I tried to infiltrate – it wasn't every day that you saw a 6'4" blond man. People in my profession were expected to blend in, and I certainly did not. It was a testament to how good I was at my job that no one knew who I was. Oh, my reputation preceded me, of that there was no doubt – I'd grown a reputation known only as "The Swede" – but the men never lived to tell the tale of what I looked like, and I took care of the women in a different way entirely; a way that left them barely remembering their name, much less able to give a detailed description of my appearance.

And that is exactly what I planned to do with Red over there. I would be able to break through her barrier. I was Eric Northman, I had never failed a mission, and I wasn't about to do so now. I looked across the table and took in everything there was to know about her, from the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she got a less than satisfactory card, the way she spun her ring when she did, to the way her eyebrows didn't seem to match her long, curly red hair.

_It can't be real, _I thought as I looked at her. Her skin was too tan, too rich to belong to a natural redhead, though the color certainly looked good on her. If I had my guess, I'd say she was a blonde through and through. I wondered if I'd have a chance to prove my theory right later when I had her out of that red dress, or if she would've taken care of that area as well.

I watched as her fingers trailed down the edge of the dress, which dipped low in the front to reveal an impressive chest beneath. The woman knew her assets, and she knew exactly how to work them. If I were anyone else, I would be easily distracted by her looks. I'd been with stunning women countless times, women who could claim beauty that was far greater than the one I faced now.

_This one should be easy._

By this point in the night, we were the only people left at the table. When the waitress came around to the table, I ordered a Scotch and Soda. It would be my third drink of the night. I enjoyed partaking in a cocktail, but not enough to impair my senses. I knew that not drinking in this setting would raise an alert to anyone that may be watching me, and thus complied with the standard. There were many ways to blend into a crowd, to convince watchful eyes that you were another vacationer on holiday and not a deadly weapon.

"Care for a cocktail there Miss…?" I trailed off, addressing my target for the first time. I disguised my slight accent, electing to put on a British accent. As I said, my reputation preceded me, speaking with the slightly Swedish lilt could put me in jeopardy. It also didn't hurt that I'd yet to find a woman who wasn't intrigued by the James Bond fantasy at a place like this. Little did they know how close they were to fulfilling it when they agreed to let me back to their room. It was always their room. It made it easier to sneak out without any questions after I exhausted their mind and body. It was always the same, I did my job. I left them sated, and then I left them alone.

She startled and looked up at me, her blue eyes meeting my own with shock and indignation. I suppose she did not think that anyone at the table would talk to her. The surprise was gone quickly, replaced with a calculating stare. She was measuring me; I could see it in her eyes. Perhaps she thought I was the man she was looking for.

"Lane," she said bluntly. When I raised my eyebrows, she continued. "Miss Lane. And yes, I could use another gin and tonic. Hendrick's please," she said to the waitress.

So she was an American. That was a surprise. Leclerq tended to like his women from the continent, and almost always from France. His favorite operative was a young girl of 19, Sophie-Anne. He'd found her when she was a young child, orphaned by her parents and wandering the streets alone. While he hadn't been much older, he'd raised her as his own and trained her to be exactly what he needed in order to carry out his operations. Despite her youthful and innocent appearance, she was absolutely lethal. I had no doubt this Miss Lane would be anything less.

Miss Lane turned back to face me and offered me a dimpled smile. "Thank you Mr…?"

"Reynolds," I said with a nod. "Eric Reynolds."

"Tell me, Mr. Reynolds – "

"Eric, please," I interrupted. It wasn't smart to give anything away about myself – anonymity was the chief tool of my trade – but I wanted to hear my name pass those ruby lips. _My _name. Not the alias I was under.

"Eric," she said dismissively, "tell me. What finds you at a casino in Martinique at this time of the year? Are you here for business, or for pleasure?"

She was blunt. I could appreciate that about her. Most operatives thought that you had to tip-toe around questions. I knew better, and so did Red.

"Can't it be both?" I asked with a smirk. It would be pleasurable business getting information out of this one. I looked forward to making it satisfying for her as well. She shook her head at me, and I continued, "Business." It wasn't an outright lie. Always best to stay as close to the truth as possible. "Yourself?"

"Business," she said curtly. "What is it you do, Mr. Rey - Eric?"

"Import-export." That was always the cover I flew under. Vague enough be real, specific enough that I wouldn't get many questions. Usually.

"Is that so?" she asked.

"Yes, quite." The waitress delivered our drinks, setting Red's down first. I watched as she took a drink and set it down. Looked like Red enjoyed nursing a cocktail as much as I did. She wasn't going to be one I could get to loosen up with a few drinks without a little more effort on my part.

I took a sip of my Scotch and Soda, allowing the burn to travel down my throat and spread throughout my chest before turning my attention back to her. She was looking at me expectantly, almost as if she were trying to read me.

"Shall we increase our wager?" I asked.

"Can you afford it?" she asked and looked at my pile of chips speculatively. True, in comparison to the mound she had amassed, my pile was trifling. But I didn't have money in mind.

"I was thinking something else." She didn't comment, just nodded as an indication that I should continue. "If you win the next hand, regardless of your bet, you can have all the chips I have here."

Her eyes rounded. While my pile was much smaller, the chips I had were worth half a million euro. "And?" she asked.

"And if I win, you agree to have a cocktail with me. Away from this table."

She sat back and studied me. I could tell that she was gauging my motives behind such a move, but I knew that I'd given nothing away. As far as she was concerned, I was a businessman in Martinique, interested in having a drink with a woman I met.

"That hardly sounds fair to you."

"It wouldn't be, if I didn't plan to win."

I was rewarded with a laugh. Her first, genuine laugh since I'd spied her. It was enchanting. She threw her head back, revealing a long, smooth neck. Yes, I would be spending time on that neck later, exploring every inch of it with my lips and tongue. There was no reason to not enjoy the benefits of my job and get the information I was seeking.

"If you're that sure, Mr. Reynolds, I will take you up on that offer."

I nodded at the dealer for my next card. It was an Ace. Combined with my Queen of Hearts, I had 21. I looked up to see the dealer pass Red her card. Her face was expressionless when she looked at the card. For someone that hadn't studied her closely, there would be no signs, but I had. I watched as she twirled her ring, and knew she thought she had a winning hand.

"The house has 18," the dealer announced, revealing a Jack and the eight of diamonds. "Players, show your cards."

"Ladies first," I insisted. I wanted to see the triumph cross her face when she showed me what she had been dealt.

Red locked eyes with me as she turned her cards over and smiled at me. "Two kings," the dealer announced. "Twenty. Sir?"

Red's eyes gleamed with triumph as she nodded at me, taunting me to reveal my cards and lose our bet. She eyed my neat stack of chips like a starving man looks at a plate of food, or like I was used to women looking at me.

With a flick of the wrist I turned my cards over, my eyes never leaving hers. The edge of my mouth turned up in a smile and I watched as her eyes flickered down to my cards, saw the shock register in her features before she composed herself again.

"Well done Mr. Reynolds," she said.

"Eric," I insisted again.

"Yes, well done Eric. I suppose I should be grateful that you didn't ask for more than a cocktail." She waved down the _cassier_ and discretely asked to be cashed out before turning back to face me.

With any luck, I would be getting far more than a cocktail out of her. But there was time for that. For now, getting her away from the table was my primary objective.

I offered my hand to Red when the _cassier _had collected both of our chips. "So, Miss Lane. Can I dare to ask your first name? Seems so formal between old friends."

"You should have made that part of the bet then," she said with a smile as she took my hand. She paused and turned to face me. "It's P- Susannah."

The stutter was hardly noticeable, but you didn't get to where I was by missing subtleties. I wondered what she would have said – if she would have given me an alias, or if she had been about to let her real name slip.

"Susannah," I said, liking the way it rolled over my tongue, but that formal of a name didn't really suit her. For as much as she was trying to project ice, I knew she was nothing but fire underneath.

"Shall we go to the bar and get our cocktail?" she asked. "A bet is a bet, and I never fail to follow through." There was a hint of suggestion in her voice, and I wasn't reading into it. This woman who had flicked away countless men had some interest in me.

"Ah, Susannah," I replied, memorizing the feel of her soft skin against my fingertips. "I'm afraid you should have asked me to be more specific. I didn't say where we'd get a drink, only that it would be away from the table. Are you staying nearby?"

Her eyes widened as she realized her error, but she soon shrugged, the silk of her dress playing across her delicate skin, offering a glimpse of what treasure lay beneath. "That depends on what you consider nearby," she responded. "I am at Cap Est."

Convenient. And I said as much.

"Do you think I'd be quite that easy, Eric? That I'd agree to take you back to my hotel?" Her eyes revealed a glimmer of humor, as if she were testing me. I had no doubt I would pass. I always did.

"My hotel as well," I pointed out.

She looked at me thoughtfully before inclining her head in the slightest nod, her eyes never breaking contact with mine. It was a confident woman who could parlay with the likes of me, and I looked forward to seeing how far she would take our charade.

I supplied the valet with the ticket for my car – an Aston Martin. It may be a cliché car in my circles, but it did the job. In the life of a secret agent, there were moments of great luxury, and moments of great hardship. This moment was the former. My assignment was to act the part of a very wealthy man, something I was able to do with little effort. I had grown up in these circles, had experienced every luxury known to man by the time I was 15. There was little that could faze me in this set, and it was exactly what made me better at my job. The best at my job.

Agents that entered this world with no experience could too easily be swayed by the glamour and sheen of the elite. This set sparkled and shone brightly, too easily blinding and distracting those that were not ready for it; not accustomed to the pace.

I watched Red as we stood waiting for the valet to return with my car – she had been delivered to the casino by the hotel's car service; there was no unnecessary conversation of how we would return. Her skin flushed with goose pimples as the cool breeze swept across the terrace, her body responding with the slightest shiver.

"Eric," she said, her voice interrupting the stillness of the night, "I do not think that my Mother would approve of me going home with a man I just met."

"Then it's a good thing your Mother isn't here."

Her laughter spilled out of her lips, across the distance that separated us, pouring through the very pores of my skin until I felt it was a part of me.

"Yes, it's a very good thing. I do think that she would advise me to stay away from you."

The valet pulled the car in front of us, handing the keys to me in exchange for the handful of chips I provided as payment.

"Why is that, Susannah?" I asked, opening the passenger door for her, inhaling her scent as she stepped close to me, as close as she'd been all evening. She smelled of jasmine and the faintest hint of… sunlight?

"Because she warned me to stay away from bad men, Mr. Reynolds," she said with a smirk as she climbed into the car, reaching down to tuck the long train of her dress inside.

"And are you quite certain I'm a bad man, Susannah?"

"Most definitely," she responded, looking up to meet my eyes.

"If that's the case," I said, leaning against the open doorway, taking in the advantageous view I had down her dress. Yes, this was going to be a very pleasurable assignment, "then what is a nice girl doing getting into my car?"

"Who said I was a nice girl?" she quipped.

I looked forward to finding out.

*

One drink turned into three, then four. Red's lips loosened as she sipped on her gin and tonics, but she never let anything essential slip. She stayed in control of her senses, the situation, the entire time. I should have known that she wouldn't give up any information this easily. Either that, or she wasn't the man (or woman in this case – and oh, what a woman) I was looking for. But, no, there was something off about her, something that gave me the impression that she was playing a role as much as I was.

Tonight she was playing the role of the seductress, and doing a damn good job of it. As a man who had experienced and performed seduction in its various forms, I could say without a doubt that Susannah Lane was a master of her art. The subtle tilt of her head; the fluttering of her lashes; the way she gently bit and released her bottom lip when she was asked a question; they were all tricks employed to reel in a man and cloud his vision until he couldn't see straight.

I signaled to the waitress to bring another round of drinks to our table, trying to distract myself from the tractor beam that I felt pulling me closer to her. If I wasn't careful, I would lose my edge with this one.

"So Red," I said as the waitress set down the drinks in front of us. Her eyes widened at the use of my nickname for her – I couldn't be bothered with her real name. It was too formal for what was surely to happen between us later. "Can I ask you a personal question?"

"Red?" she asked with a laugh.

I smirked at her and nodded. "It suits you."

Her eyes shifted to the side, as if she were determining what the appropriate response would be. "Thank you, I suppose. And, it depends what you mean by personal."

"What's a beautiful woman doing on Martinique by herself? Surely you must have someone, somewhere."

I watched her closely, looking for the telltale signs – the stiffening of her posture, a twirl of her hair – but she provided nothing. She returned my stare with an assessing gaze before finishing off her drink.

"I may. I may not. Does that concern you?"

"It never has before."

"Why does that not surprise me? Tell me, do you like women that are taken Eric?"

"It keeps things simple," I said with a shrug.

"What if I weren't taken? Would you still be interested?"

"In you?" My eyes drifted down to her bare neck, to the steady pulse I could see beating there, then further down to the deep V of her dress and the skin that was hidden below. "Yes. I think I could make an exception in your case."

She sat back in her chair, the tension and pretense slipping from her form as she truly relaxed. Bingo. I had her exactly where I wanted her.

"Then what are you waiting for?" she asked.

I arched my eyebrow in response, never one to assume anything. Take advantage of situations? Most definitely. But to assume anything could be dangerous.

"I'm assuming this has all been a ploy to get me to invite you back to my room. Yes?"

The laughter erupted before I could stifle it. The woman had balls, I could give her that.

"You could say that, Red."

"Then," she said, standing up and grabbing her wrap. I was frozen in place as she began to walk away, mesmerized by the sway in her hips, the way her waist curved and the silk clung to her body. "I will reiterate. What are you waiting for?"

*

She stayed three steps ahead of me as we left the bar and walked through the open courtyard; far enough away that she was out of my reach, but close enough that I could smell her, sense the heat radiating off of her body. She wound down a dark and narrow path, lit only by the decorative torches hung every fifteen feet, never looking back to see if I was following. She knew I was. I would be a fool not to. Even if I didn't get any information out of her tonight, there was nothing in this world that would stop me from following the siren wherever she led me.

She veered off the path, stopping at a secluded villa to dig her key out of the excuse of a handbag she had been carrying all night. I couldn't resist myself – couldn't resist her – any longer. I stepped close to her, reaching out to brace myself against the wall of her villa, so close that the rise and fall of my breath brought my chest into contact with the bare skin of her back.

"Red," I whispered, centimeters away from her ear. I felt her body shiver in response to my words, to the breath that traveled across her ear and down her neck, before I leaned down and tasted her skin for the first time. It was intoxicating: sunshine and honey, encased up in a red silk dress, ready for me to unwrap and enjoy.

She inhaled sharply as my lips touched her skin, her fingers stilling on the key she'd pulled out of her bag, her hand frozen in mid air. She leaned into me, the movement so slight that one with dull senses may not have caught it.

My hands, idle at my side, moved to clasp her waist and pull her tightly against me. I groaned at the sensation of her body pressed into mine, how the curve of her back hugged my groin, how her shoulder blades pressed against my ribs and the top of her head brushed my chin. She fit me perfectly.

"You're going to be the death of me, Red." And she very well could be if I couldn't get it together. Though, at this point, I wasn't sure if I cared. All logic, all reasoning had disappeared hours ago. I may be making a mistake, but it was a mistake I wouldn't regret, no matter how this ended.

She pressed back against me with a sigh, tilting her head to the side to give me better access to the smooth skin of her neck and shoulders; access I took advantage of. My lips and tongue danced across the tan softness, eliciting groans of appreciation from her barely parted lips.

"Eric," she whimpered, her breathing ragged as she called my name into the darkness.

I smiled against her skin, trailing up to take her earlobe into my mouth. "Yes Red?"

"I think we should take this inside," she said, pulling out of my grip to put the key in the door. "No use in having a bed if it's not put to use." The look she gave me was filled with the promise of what was to come, brimming over with passion and lust I hadn't seen in any of the women I'd been with, and a part of me snapped.

The door swung open, hitting the wall behind it with force as I pushed her against it, finally capturing her lips with my own. Her legs flew up to wrap around my waist, the red silk bunching between us as I pressed against her. My hands moved to her hips and thighs, brushing against the exposed skin as I held her in place, not wanting to leave this moment as our tongues danced against one another's.

The sound of voices drifted across the stillness of the night, alerting me of oncoming foot traffic. Even in this lust-induced haze, I knew that I was safer inside her villa than out of it. Pulling my mouth away from hers, I wrapped my arms around her tightly and carried her inside, kicking the door shut behind me with a loud bang that rattled the frame, sending the "do not disturb" sign fluttering to the floor. I'd worry about being disturbed later. For now, I only had one focus.

In five long strides, I found a counter at the mini-bar and set her down on it. My hands would miss the feel of her full hips and thighs, but there was more to explore, more to touch; I could – and planned to – return once I'd conquered the rest. I turned my mouth back to her ear, her neck, savoring the flavor and the response.

Her small hands danced up the front of my shirt and tugged on the ends of my bow tie until it was nothing but a strip of black cloth hanging around my neck. "Mmmm," she practically purred, "I love a man who wears a real bow tie."

"How about a man who wears nothing at all?" I asked against her neck, underscoring the last word with a nip at her pulse point.

"Even better."

In a blind frenzy, we tugged and pulled at the fabric that covered each others bodies. Her hands snaked into the arms of my jacket, pushing it down my arms until it was a forgotten memory. My fingers latched onto the thin straps of her dress, drawing it down the silky skin of her arms until it came to rest at her waist and revealed the strapless, lacy red bra underneath. It was the kind of lingerie that was designed to drive a man crazy – the kind that barely covered anything, yet made a man salivate to see the rest.

"Red," I groaned, trailing my fingers down her legs, which wrapped around my waist, her ankles hooking behind the small of my back. When I captured her feet in my hands, I gently pulled them apart and guided them to the floor. As much as I enjoyed having her pretzel around me, I wanted nothing more than to get her out of the rest of her dress.

Her feet hit the floor while her hands busied themselves on my glaringly bright white shirt – jerking the fabric out of the waistband of my pants and impatiently unbuttoning the tiny hidden buttons. She pressed her mouth against my chest, leaving a wet kiss in place of every button she undid. My knees gave way to the sensation, and I thought I was going to lose my balance when that mouth I'd been fantasizing over all night reached my naval, her tongue darting out to swirl around it before she moved back up my chest and pushed at the arms of my shirt until it joined my jacket on the floor.

I groaned when she ducked under my outstretched arm, reaching out to grip my waist and spin me around until I was facing her once again, my back against the counter as our positions changed, and the power changed. She reached up and pressed one finger to my lips, ordering my silence as she stepped out of my reach and slowly peeled the red silk from her body, revealing miles of tan skin and a scrap of red lace that had been hidden beneath the fabric that now pooled at her feet.

I kicked out of my shoes and socks, and lunged at her like a man on a mission, which is exactly what I was. She gasped and giggled as I swept her up in my arms, her bare skin contacting mine for the first time of the night. I inhaled sharply as my fingers brushed across her bare hips, their roughness in stark contrast to the delicate skin stretched across her abdomen.

I blindly moved forward, stopping only when I had her back against the opposite wall, our collision causing a framed picture of a rooster to go crashing to the floor, shattering the glass inside.

"Eric!" she gasped, struggling to free herself from my grip as she looked at the broken frame on the ground. "Stop. We can't leave it there like that."

I tightened my grip, unwilling to release her for anything; not until I finished what I started. "It's not important Red," I murmured against her temple, and stepped backwards, away from the mess we'd created. I carried her to the bed, brushing my lips across her temple. "We'll be safer over here. I wouldn't want that glass to be near this pretty skin."

I set her down gently on the edge of the bed, kneeling down in front of her and unbuckling the straps on her sparkling high heels, pulling them off her feet to toss them into the abyss behind me. My lips traveled up her calves, her groans of approval spurring on my attentions. When my lips reached the inside of her knee, I looked up to find her staring back, resting on her elbows as she took in every moment.

"Eric," she whimpered, pushing herself to sit upright as she wound her hands through my blond hair before gripping my shoulders and pulling me to stand up in front of her. When I was on my feet, my impossibly hard erection at her eye level, she looked up at me with an impetuous grin and began to unbutton my pants. I groaned and shut my eyes as she tugged at the zipper, her fingers barely brushing over the part of me that was desperate to be released. My pants fell to the floor and I quickly kicked out of them before I pulled her up to meet me toe to toe.

I leaned down and used my teeth, dragging her bottom lip into my mouth for one quick, impatient bite that had her gasping in surprise or retort. I wasn't in the mood to care which, not when my tongue found hers, not when the taste of her satisfied the hunger inside of me.

My hands roamed her body, memorizing the plains and curves she presented, cupping her lace covered breasts with my hands, as she reached behind herself to fumble with the hook of her bra.

"Let me-" I said, unhooking the thing with one flick of my fingers and catapulting the red lace behind me.

When we stood, face-to-face, only covered by her excuse of underwear and my boxer briefs, I took her face in my hands and looked her in the eyes.

"I guess I was wrong," I said.

"About what?" she panted, looking up at me with a question in her eyes.

"You definitely are not a good girl."

Her laughter filled the air, sending shivers down my spine as I nudged her gently back onto the bed and eased down with her.

The two scraps of fabric soon became none, as we explored each other with a frenzied deprivation, our movements, our bodies, traveling in synchronization. We moved against each other with purpose, petting and probing every exposed inch. I brought her to release once with my hands, her spine curving as she called out my name, pressing her breasts into my questing mouth.

With no words, she pulled me down to her, urging me to continue. And when I finally slipped into her, I let out a groan of immense satisfaction. Her body writhed beneath mine, arching up to meet my movements with her own, our joining reaching a harried pace before I felt her tremble beneath me and followed her over the edge.

We fell back against the pillow, exhausted, her head tucked into the crook of my arm as she traced lazy circles across my chest. I could feel the vibrations of her chest against my side as she hummed a slow and languid tune.

The cool air hit my hot and sticky skin as she pushed away from me, excusing herself to go take care of her more human needs. I watched as she walked away from me, doing nothing to hide her nudity from my view. I appreciated a woman who was comfortable in her own skin.

I waited for her to return, unsure of what I wanted to do next. The smart thing would be to quietly gather my belongings and leave her behind. I wasn't going to get any information out of her tonight. Like the rest of the women before her, the best path was to love and leave before any questions could be asked of me. But I wanted more; I wanted a chance to see exactly how bad of a girl Red could be.

Before I could make my decision, she rounded the corner wearing my discarded shirt and bowtie; the shirt hung open, revealing glimpses of the skin beneath. As much as I'd like seeing her naked, seeing her wearing my shirt aroused me immediately. Her red hair was tousled, her lips bee stung from my attentions. She paused at the foot of the bed, the light from the moon pouring across the room and reflecting off of her exposed skin.

"Are you trying to kill me Red?" I whispered, all too aware of the double meaning behind my words.

"Maybe," she said simply, my heart racing as she paused and appeared to be contemplating her next move. I saw her smirk in the dim light as she kneeled onto the bed and crawled towards me. "What are you going to do about it, Mr. Reynolds?"

I went about showing her exactly how I'd take care of her, and take care of her I did. But this time, when our bodies were sated and she hummed herself to sleep, I knew what I needed to do. She purred and reached out to the space I'd occupied when I slipped out from her grip, but remained asleep.

I gathered up my clothes, pulling on my shirt and pants with an efficiency and quietness I'd acquired for such situations over the years. I looked over my shoulder once, allowing myself to memorize how she looked at this moment, her red hair spilling across the rumpled white sheets, bathed in moonlight.

But, like every time before, and inevitably what I would do in the future, I slipped out before anymore could be said. I checked my room, ensuring that everything was clear before I fell into my bed and allowed myself to sleep.

*

My phone beeped early the next morning, the message from my superior informing me that I was due at an address by 9 am. That gave me exactly 40 minutes to recover from the previous night. I washed the scent of Red off my skin, attempting to burn the memory of her away with the hot water that poured over my skin. There was nothing that made her different from the scores of other women. She'd been beautiful, we'd pleasured each other immensely; it was time to move forward. I had to move forward.

The address R gave me was three miles away from the hotel, and I made short time of getting there in my Aston Martin. I appreciated the feel of the car, the way it hugged the windy roads and gave me freedom. It was like driving a beautiful woman; put it in the hands of the right man, and it would never be steered wrong.

I pulled up to an abandoned building and hopped out of the car. I remained alert as I walked towards the open doorway, only relaxing when I saw R's assistant Clancy waiting for me in the doorway. "Northman," he said with a nod, gesturing for me to follow him in. He led me down a series of hallways before stopping at a closed door. "R wants to speak with you in private." He opened the door, revealing the tall blonde I reported to sitting behind a desk. It wasn't everyday that the mountain came to Moses; something big must have happened.

"Northman," she barked, "you're late."

I chuckled at her brisk manner and sat down across from her. She was the type of woman that could make a man quiver in his boots. Well, a lesser man than me. She had her career as an agent, had earned a reputation as the 'black widow' of the UNDK, before rising among the ranks faster than any of her peers. Her appointment to her current position had caused quite a shock among the ranks, but she was ruthless, and damned good at her job.

"Two minutes. That's hardly late Pa-"

"Utter another syllable and I will have you killed," she retorted. I laughed, even though I knew that she had the authority to do it. I reported to her. My life was literally in her hands.

"Right. We'll R_, _pray tell me what was important enough for you to fly to Martinique?"

"We've learned additional intel about Leclerq." Well, that certainly piqued my interest. I leaned forward, my senses alert for what I was about to learn. "It appears that he has his hands in multiple pots. Pots that would make charges stick very easily."

"Is that so?"

"That's so. And, we have agreed to work with the CIA to catch him."

That was a surprise. The UNDK tended to like to work on its own, only engaging other international units when necessary.

She continued. "It appears that one of Monsieur Leclerq's new associate has an affinity for young American women." She raised her eyebrows. Ah yes, well after last night, I could say I had an affinity for young American women myself, though I imagined my intentions were far simpler than Leclerq's, knowing his tendencies.

"How does that relate to the CIA?"

"They've sent their top agent to Martinique, chasing the same lead that you came here on. We have agreed to have you work with her. You're both the best that your country has to offer. If you can't track him down, no one can." _She? _It wasn't that I didn't think that women could be agents, R was proof, but my style of interrogation might be hindered by working with a female partner.

I nodded. While I was sure that I could catch him on my own, I wouldn't contradict R, not on something as important as this.

"When do I get to meet this Agent…?"

"Stackhouse."

"Stackhouse?" What kind of name was that?

"Yes. Agent Stackhouse," R responded. "She is to be here shortly. Her superior told her to meet her here as well. She is being debriefed in another room."

As if on cue, there was a rap on the door.

R looked down at her watch. "Excellent. At least one of you will be prompt."

Without another word, she stood up and brushed past me to open the door. She paused with her hand on the handle, turning back to face me. "And Northman?"

"Yes R?"

"Don't sleep with this one. We can't afford for your arrogance to get in the way on this. It's too important." And with that, she pulled the door open.

_Too late for that R._

She may have been dressed in a prim button up and dark jeans; her ruby red lips may have been touched only with gloss; her hair may be blonde, but there was no question who this woman was.

There, on the other side of the door, stood Red.


	2. 2 The Struggle To Be On Top

**AN: **Here it is! Chapter 2 of my little homage to James Bond and Eric Northman. I was blown away by the response the first chapter got! Thank you to everyone who reviewed, alerted, favorite and whatever else you did – but most of all, thank you to everyone that reads it!

Giant thanks and super spy hugs to Sunkisz for being the best beta!

**Disclaimer:** Bits and pieces belong to me, the rest belong to Sir Fleming and Ms. Harris.

* * *

**Chapter 2 – The Struggle To Be On Top**

"Agent Stackhouse," R said, extending her hand in that exceedingly American way. R was good at taking on the habits of those around her effortlessly. Most people would come off as forced or pretentious, but not R. She was a chameleon. That skill was one of many that had made her a good agent, and it made her even better in her current job where diplomacy was essential.

I stood back and surveyed the interaction between my boss and the woman I had been with hours ago. She hadn't spotted me yet, hadn't looked further into the room than R's slight, yet imposing frame. For once, I was happy to let R have the spotlight. It gave me the opportunity to look at Red, to detect the slight bags under her eyes – bags that I had done my part to put there. Despite her lack of sleep, she looked beautiful. I wanted nothing more than to see her reaction when she realized who she would be working with.

R looked beyond Red at the man standing behind her and inclined her head. "Merlotte."

"Pamela," he said, nodding back at her.

Pamela? I had never heard anyone call R by her first name, not since she'd first joined the UNDK. I stifled the grin that was threatening to break out on my face. Ever since she'd moved up the ranks, "Pamela" had insisted that no one use her real name. I wondered what R would do to put this Merlotte fellow in his place.

Nothing. At least nothing beyond her legendary icy stare.

After surveying him for a moment, R shook her head and turned her attention back to Agent Stackhouse, and so did I. I'd been right. She wasn't a natural redhead after all. There was no mistaking her. Her red curls may have been replaced with blond, and the crisp button-down shirt was far more efficient than sexy, but this was my Red. The same Red I'd left only hours ago naked and spent in her hotel room.

My lips curled into a smile before I could stop them. Hell, I didn't want to stop them. I had years of experience in masking my reactions; it came as second nature. Hiding my response to any event was a vital part of my profession. In a world where it was kill or be killed – and I had been on the former half of that adage many times – it was my duty to present a placid exterior. Any flinch, any tick out of the ordinary and I could be exposed.

I could never look back and regret anything – not the women I'd seduced for information, nor the bodies that had piled up to a number that I didn't keep track of, couldn't keep track of. If I thought about that too much, I might feel a twinge of regret. I did my job. Regret wasn't part of it.

R ushered Red and Merlotte into the office, Red's eyes alighting on me immediately. I smirked as her eyes widened with shock, just for one quick second before she set her face in stone, forcing an appearance that would give away no hints, no clues that she had been writhing underneath me in her bed earlier that morning.

"Northman," R barked, pulling my attention from Red's mouth. The firm line she'd set had curved into a frown when I stepped towards her, close enough to make her squirm but far enough away that I wouldn't get a reprimand from R. Or so I thought.

"Yes?" I asked, flashing Red a wink before turning my attention back to R.

"Stop gawking at Agent Stackhouse," she commanded.

"Who's to say she doesn't want me to gawk at her?" I asked with a smirk.

R shook her head disapprovingly at me and turned back to face Red. "Agent Stackhouse, I'm going to apologize in advance for this one. He has yet to learn that arrogance and self-awareness do not go hand in hand. But he does make for an excessively efficient blunt instrument. It makes up for the rest most of the time."

Red's eyes rounded in surprise once again as she looked back and forth between R and I. We had a relationship that was rarely found in our positions- a casual banter that some might see as disrespectful, but our relationship had been well established when our roles had changed and she became my boss. R and I had been recruited for the agency at the same time, had trained together and had even been on the same assignments. We worked well together, primarily because R wasn't susceptible to my method of seduction – I had the wrong chromosome for her.

When her current position had opened, R had been tapped on the shoulder for the role. She was the youngest person to ever fill that role, and only the second woman. Except for the two agents that had wanted the position, everyone else knew that R was the right person for the job. The two agents now? Well they weren't agents, or anything, anymore. They'd allowed their anger to affect their performance, not something one could do in this world without facing the consequences.

"You'll have to forgive R," I responded, stepping forward to take Red's hand in mine, "she forgets her manners. Agent Stackhouse, it's a pleasure to meet you." I smiled when her eyelashes fluttered at my touch.

She let her hand linger in mine, smirking at me when I brought it to my mouth and brushed my lips lightly along the top. I wondered if she had washed me off of her body with any reluctance this morning. The look she gave me, combined with the thought of her in the shower was enough to distract me momentarily. Maybe this assignment wouldn't be so dreadful after all.

"You didn't tell me he had a James Bond complex," Red said, turning back to face R.

R threw her head back and roared with laughter. "Yes, well, he is excellent at his job, despite that. Aren't you 007?" Her mirthful eyes met those of her counterpart and suddenly she was all business.

"Stackhouse, Northman, now that you are both here, let's get down to it." She indicated for us to sit in the three empty chairs across from the desk she had occupied, walking around with efficiency to sit behind the desk, in the position of power. We may be collaborating on this mission, but R never relinquished an ounce of control. She would be heading this mission, whether the CIA knew it or not.

Red's boss elected to forgo the empty chair to lean against the desk. It appeared that he wasn't going to let R win quite so easily. I claimed the spot I had vacated and watched silently as Red sat down, leaving an empty chair between us. So she was afraid of what I would do, or maybe what she would do to be this near me again? Good.

I watched as she tucked a stray hair behind her ear, watched as she faced R and Merlotte and tried not to look at me. She did. Of course she looked. How could she look anywhere else? But then she did something that surprised even me. I had expected her to keep her distance once she found out that I was to be her partner, embarrassed that we would be working so closely together after we had been so… close. But her reaction was the farthest thing from avoidance. No, she gave me a broad smile and a seductive wink. It was so fast that I wondered if I imagined it before she turned her head, her eyes straight forward.

I dragged my eyes away from her profile and examined this Merlotte character. He was lanky, his body wiry and long; his strawberry-blond hair was in good need of a haircut. He didn't look like your typical CIA man; he was far too unkempt, far too rough to fit the profile. R seemed to have some respect for him – more respect than she'd had for the Russians we'd attempted to collaborate with last year. I smiled as I recalled the night I'd spent with Ivanka in Dubai. She'd given new meaning to the scarf dance. Shame that she hadn't made it through that one.

"Sookie," Merlotte started, pulling me out of my reminiscing. So, Red's name was Sookie was it? That fit her much better than Susannah, though I imagined it was a nickname of some sort. I forced myself to stop from thinking of how it would sound in the throes of passion. There would be adequate time to mull over the new knowledge. For now I needed to focus. I listened as Merlotte spoke of our collaboration, detecting a hint of a Southern accent he tried to hide under that monotone middle-American cover.

"We have discovered that one of Leclerq's operatives will be in attendance at Giovanni Filangieri's soiree for the Amalfi Regatta," R continued. "She is new to the organization, though has climbed the ranks quickly. This is no gun for hire. She is one of Leclerq's girls, and we have it on good authority that she works directly with Sophie-Anne. We have secured you an invitation to the event. You will be traveling as husband and wife." I looked over to see Red's spine stiffen, barely perceptible to the naked eye, but then again I'd seen her naked, I had the advantage. I studied the curve of her neck, remembering how much she enjoyed when I'd suckled there, the whimpers she'd emitted when I'd bitten it gently.

"It appears this Lorena has an affinity for married women. Northman." My head snapped up, my daydream cut short. "You will not be playing the role of the jealous husband. Is that clear? I do not want to repeat myself."

"Got it," I nodded. I smiled as I thought of the charade we would play. There'd be no jealousy from me if Red decided to pursue that fully. Leclerq's operatives were all beautiful, chosen for their looks as well as their skills. The thought of Red with one of them was enough to make me shift in my seat. I wondered what she'd think if I asked to join, or even just to watch. The Red from last night may have gone along with it; the Red from today was another matter entirely.

"A plane will be waiting for you at 4 pm," Merlotte continued. "You will fly directly into Naples where you will be met by Rafael. You remember Rafael, don't you Sookie?" She nodded. "He will drive you to the helipad, and give you your final instructions."

R and Merlotte dismissed us from the room, indicating that we would hear from them soon. I opened the door for Red, letting her pass through before me, both so that I could gauge her reaction, and so that I could see her world class ass. Yes, something had definitely changed from last night. She was attempting to put on her ice queen act so many men had failed to breach last night in front of R and Merlotte. I supposed it was what she thought was her professional demeanor. I knew I had melted it once, and could undoubtedly do so again.

We passed Clancy on our way out, his normally stony face filled with irritation at the sight of Red. Clancy had always had a distaste for Americans, and especially anyone associated with the CIA. He was of the firm belief that the Americans strong-armed their way into any situation, and did not possess the finesse and creativity necessary to complete the job. Add to that that Red was an attractive woman, and had been assigned to work with me, and there was nothing she could do to gain his favor.

"Clancy," I said, with a nod and a wink. "Keep her in line, will you?"

"I'll do my best Northman," he said, without a smile. "Try not to blow up anything this time?"

I looked up and saw that Red had continued walking, obviously planning to get in her vehicle and leave as quickly as possible. I threw a cursory goodbye over my shoulder to Clancy as I ran to catch up with her. She wouldn't be getting away from me that easily without at least acknowledging what had happened. I caught her outside the building, her keys out of that competent black purse she was carrying as she rounded her car. I used our height difference to my advantage and stopped her before she could get into her car.

"Leaving so fast?" I smirked, and leaned against the driver's door. She had excellent taste in vehicles. While it was not up to par with the Aston Martin I was driving, the Mercedes would put on a good show. I'd used one once, though it didn't end up in nearly as pristine of a condition as it had been when I had picked it up. I seemed to have a habit of doing that with vehicles, something Clancy seemed to enjoy reminding me of at every opportunity.

"Agent Northman," she said, her tone proper and restrained as she came to a full stop inches away from me. She took a step back, widening the distance between us and placing her hands on her hips.

"I think we're a bit beyond that." I pushed off the car, and moved forward to close the gap she'd created until I was close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off her body. I reached out and traced my finger along her jaw; her skin hot and sticky from the heat and humidity heavy in the air. "Don't you think so Red?" I watched as she closed her eyes, steeling herself against me, and I reached out to tuck a wisp of blond hair that had fallen from her efficient bun.

"Agent Northman," she repeated, and pushed my hand away. When she opened her eyes, they were full of the fire that they had been last night. Good, forward moving progress. "I suppose we're going to have to talk about this at some point aren't we?"

I nodded smirked. "Yes, we are definitely going to have to discuss this. Or we could revisit it if that would be easier."

"As tempting as that sounds, I think we'd best not, eh?"

"Why's that Red?"

"We're both professionals."

"Professional?" I laughed, putting my hands in my pockets as she took two steps away from me. I was afraid that if they weren't restrained, they'd take on a life of their own and touch her again.

There was no question that I would touch her again; maybe not while we were on the job, but inevitably she'd let me – no, beg me to touch her again as I touched her last night. I was used to getting what I wanted, and there was nothing I wanted more than to have her again. I could see the irritation rising, bubbling to the surface, and wondered how far I could push her before she snapped. She'd revealed herself to be a passionate woman, despite the slicked back hair and all-business attire she donned for this meeting. It was hidden, but it was there, and I intended to see it again before I left.

"Yes," she smiled, "professional. Look, I think we can both agree that last night was enjoyable." I nodded, yet again. "But I think we can also admit that we were using each other to try and get information about Leclerq."

"Darling, that's not the only thing I was looking for." My eyes traveled down to the swell of her breasts underneath her shirt, and a memory of them unbound in my hands and mouth flashed before my eyes. "I'd say we had a mutually beneficial relationship."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm sure your suave secret agent act works with most people Northman. And I'll admit, I let it work on me last night. Even after I knew I wasn't going to get any information from you, I didn't leave. But, that being said, we both know that one night in the sack does not mean much in this day and age. We do what we have to do to get our man, don't we?"

"Are you saying you did your job last night Red?" I asked with a smirk. I liked this fiery side of her, liked that she could admit that she had the same attitude towards the job that I did.

"And then some." She turned back towards her car. "Look Northman, I was wondering if I'd see you again after you so quietly stole out of my hotel room. Good on that by the way. I don't normally sleep that heavily."

"I'd say I wore you out."

"Yes, you would, wouldn't you?" she asked with a cold glint in her eyes. "I could tell that you weren't in the Import/Export business. You were far too interesting to do something so dull. When Sam phoned me this morning and told me I'd be teaming up with "the Swede," I even wondered if you were the man. Oh yes, I know you didn't talk with the right accent, but I know accents can be masked. You've built up quite a reputation for yourself in the community there Swede. What were the chances that there would be another tall, suave blond man poking around Martinique at this time of the year?"

I shrugged my shoulders. True.

"But, much to my regret, and believe me, I regret that I have to say this to you. I think it would be inappropriate to carry on as anything but colleagues going forward."

"Inappropriate? Is that what you called that trick you did last night? Three times I believe." I chuckled as she shook her head at me. "You know Red, I wasn't aware that a body could bend that way."

"If you're trying to embarrass me Northman, it's not going to work." Her face immobile, but her eyes were sparking with mischief. "You aren't the first man I've slept with on a job, and I'm sure you won't be the last."

"Then what's the problem?" I asked. "We know we're good together, we got thrown into this assignment together, might as well take care of the perks. You never know what you're getting into once you get back to someone's hotel room."

"That may be true," she said. She looked off into the distance before turning her eyes back to mine and giving me an indifferent shrug. "Listen, will I sleep with you again? Undoubtedly. You are far too skilled to completely lock out. But I can tell you that we will not be in any such positions anytime soon."

I generally thought I had a good understanding of women, but this one was unlike any I'd come across before. This one fascinated me.

"Care to enlighten me why the timing of such a recurrence would matter?"

"Unlike you, I do not constantly assess the situation to see how to make it all about hedonistic pleasure. I might have seemed that way last night, but that was last night. I have a job to do, and that is my first priority."

"There's nothing to say we can't do our job as well. You know what they say? All work and no play…"

"Makes me a dull girl. Yes, I'm sure you'll think of me as many things and in many ways, but dull will never be one of them, I can assure you."

"Red."

"Yes Northman?"

"Does the fact that we've already broken that barrier not play into your decision at all? It's not as if we haven't gone a few rounds already. What would a few more be?" I would break her down, if it was the last thing I did.

"Sure it does. But just because we have doesn't mean that I'm ready to hop back into bed with you at the drop of the hat. There's something to be said for escalating sexual tension. It makes life more interesting if you have something to look forward to."

"So, you're saying you are looking forward to getting underneath me again?"

"Or on top," she said with a wink. "But I wouldn't want to risk our assignment just to get a piece of your ass again. I'm a big believer of sexual tension. You become too satisfied, you become content. And you and I both know that contentment breeds mistakes. We've got to be alert."

I nodded. As infuriating as it was, I knew that she was right. Hell, it was my own damned philosophy, but that didn't make it any easier to have it thrown in my face.

"And, on another note, you really should stop calling me Red."

"I thought you liked it," I mocked. "Or, you seemed to like it last night."

"Be that the case, I wouldn't want you to slip up while we're out somewhere."

Like that would happen.

"You may call me Agent Stackhouse," she continued. "Or Susannah if you must, Agent Northman."

"Eric," I insisted.

Her eyes widened. "So it is Eric?" She paused. "Interesting."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, pulling my hands out of my pockets and took a step forward.

"I didn't think in all of your _super-spyiness_ that you'd actually give up your real name," she shrugged.

"Maybe I just wanted to hear you say it." I stepped closer yet again, the front of my shirt brushing against her as I heard her breath catch. "Maybe I wanted to ensure that when you called my name out, that you'd be saying my name and not my cover."

"You're awfully sure of yourself," she said.

"I wouldn't say it's undeserved, considering that you did, in fact, call out my name. Multiple times I believe Red, correct me if I'm wrong."

"You certainly do have a talent in that area, which is good considering you can't seem to get anything else through that thick skull of yours."

"I've never had a complaint before," I shrugged. "Maybe it's you."

"I wouldn't say that I'm complaining Agent Northman that – "

"I said that you should call me Eric."

She rolled her eyes and placed her hand on the front of my shirt to keep me at a distance. "As I was saying _Agent Northman_, I fail to believe that you've never had a woman who wasn't interested in your attentions."

"There have been women who've turned me down once or twice," I said with a shrug. "But both times Red, it was _before_ they were naked and underneath me. _Before_ they screamed my name."

"Then I suppose there's a first for everything," she responded, slipping around me and opening her car door. "Do your best to be on time. I do hate waiting."

I watched in silence as she slammed the door shut and started her ignition. Without a look in my direction, she backed her vehicle up, her tires creating a dust storm around my legs. I stood frozen in place and watched until the black Mercedes was a speck on the horizon.

I would have her again. There was no doubt about it. There was no way a woman as fiery, as explosive as Red had proved herself to be would be able to resist reigniting the flame we'd started last night, not when we were going to be in such close proximity. I would break her down, break through the wall she'd erected around herself and have her melt at my feet. It wouldn't be easy, not with someone as stubborn as she was, but I always liked a good challenge, especially when I knew that the rewards would be worthwhile.


	3. 3 The Man Called Sheriff

**AN:** *knock knock* Anyone still out there? It's been awhile, hasn't it? Lovely to see you all again *giggles*

Seriously, thank you all for sticking around and waiting for Secret Agent Northman to come back from his mission that prevented me from writing about him. And thank you to everyone who is reading, alerting, favoriting and reviewing. I know everyone says it, but it's very true that your support keeps us going when we hit a slump.

Thanks, as always to the lovely Sunkisz for being my fabulous beta.

And most of this still doesn't belong to me

Here we go...

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**Chapter 3 - The Man Called Sheriff**

**Positano, Italy - 40°38****′****N 14°29****′****E** **/ 40.633, 14.483**

The dramatic rise of the cliffs along the seaside provided a stark contrast to the calm blue waters below. The four boats representing the ancient Italian Maritime Republics of Amalfi, Genoa, Pisa and Venice bobbed in the water below the sparking villa, waiting for the 10 men crews to complete their procession down the winding streets to the harbor.

The streets of Positano were filled with spectators – tourists with their requisite cameras slung over their shoulders, children tugging at their parent's hands to get a better view, and hoards of locals in traditional dress, escorting their crews down to the water, marking the traditions of their prosperous history.

The gathering at Giovanni Filangieri's sprawling villa represented the elite of Amalfi's society; men and women who there to see as much as to be seen. There was little attention paid to the pomp and circumstance outside, the procession that passed alongside the lemon tree-lined promenade marked by flower-filled piazzas and street vendors. Instead of watching the festivities, the women watched each other and the men took in the women between sips of their cocktails and puffs of their cigars.

Music, a quiet Mediterranean inspired tune, filled the air in the insulated villa, pouring around the party-goers as their champagne glasses emptied and were refilled by the ubiquitous wait staff. I looked across the sea of well-dressed guests and spotted Sookie. She'd donned a brunette wig today, short and severe in style. I had to hand it to her, she knew exactly how to change her look, just enough so that you wouldn't recognize her from mission to mission. She was of a different mindset than I was on that front – I didn't see the need for prosthetics and wigs. I took care of problems when I faced them head on. It had worked for me so far.

The sun was high in the sky, just past midday as I watched Sookie weave her way through the glittering crowd as she returned from the powder room. Her bright blue dress a beacon in a room otherwise filled with black. There was no doubt she would catch the attention of many men – and women – today.

"Any sign?" she asked, stopping in front of me as she looked past me to the balcony. We did not know when Lorena was due to arrive. Rafael had provided us with the intel when we had landed in Naples, including the information on our target. She was a favorite of Giovanni Filangieri and his wife Donatella, though his involvement in Leclerq's circle was doubtful. Filangieri's connection to Lorena was of a baser nature, or at least his wife's connection was. I watched as Donatella flitted across the room, her black hair pulled severely from her forehead to show off hours of plastic surgery. She'd yet to show particular attention to any woman beyond the casual greeting.

"Nothing yet," I responded. "You?"

The smell of Sookie's perfume hit me like a freight train. It was heady and sensual, its impact meant to attract attention, and it had. The minute she stepped out of the bathroom of our rented villa, I felt the collision of her scent. She'd worn little perfume in Martinique, allowing her natural fragrance to speak for her. But today she had another target in mind, one that liked her women to be feminine and dangerous, two things Agent Stackhouse definitely fit today.

"Nothing," she replied, biting her bottom lip. She looked down at the sparkling liquid in the flute I placed in her hand, contemplating the decision to partake of the nectar. I'd learned in the last 48 hours since we'd left Martinique that Sookie didn't do anything without weighing all of the possible outcomes, something that left me wondering what she'd imagined the outcome of our tryst would have been. Whatever it was, I doubted it was anything similar to what had happened. That was a subject I was going to broach eventually. Not today.

"Loosen up there Red," I said, low enough so that only she could hear. "The champagne isn't going to kill you."

Her eyes flashed up to meet mine, the fiery temper flaring up in retort to my nickname. She'd told me countless times that I shouldn't call her that, but damned if I was going to stop. I liked the rise it got out of her, the way her skin flushed when I did. I couldn't think of her as anything else. No matter what color her hair was, I wouldn't be able to shake the image of her red hair spilling across the stark white sheets as she writhed beneath me. Of course, I'd be willing to test out that particular look with whatever hair color she chose. I was an equal opportunist.

"Eri- David," she said with a smile as she reached out to take the glass from me, her fingers brushing lightly against mine at contact.

"Yes Caroline?" I asked with a raised eyebrow. Our cover, our identity on this mission was that of David and Caroline Somerset, a childless couple from Derbyshire. Lorena liked her women to be beautiful and married, though any hint of a child was an immediate dismissal. I had to give it to her, wherever she was, this Lorena and I seemed to have the same taste in women, though I would – and did – take Sookie married or not.

"You're such a darling for getting these drinks for us," she said, loud enough for the nearby couples to hear us. Sookie's British accent was admirable, particularly for an American. I'd done some research on her, called upon old colleagues to find out what I could. It appeared that Agent Susannah Stackhouse, or "Sookie" for short, was known for her ability to disguise herself, for blending in to the crowd. While I couldn't imagine her blending in very well, she'd proven her ability to adapt to any situation.

"Of course, dearest," I replied, taking the opportunity to wrap my free arm around her waist and pull her towards me. Her body stiffened slightly, and I could sense when she forced herself to relax against me. It wouldn't be fitting for her to respond negatively to my touch, something I planned to take advantage of as much as possible. I leaned down and nuzzled my mouth into her hair, just above her ear. "Anything for you."

"David," she said, attempting to pull away from my grasp unsuccessfully, then sounding more terse when she realized I wasn't letting go, "sweetheart…" My lips brushed across her temple, and she rewarded me with an elbow to the ribs, so subtle that it would go unnoticed in the crowd, but hard enough that I felt it. I loosened my grip on her waist, allowing her to take a step backwards while still touching her.

"Yes?" I replied.

"Would you be a dear and grab me another glass of champagne?" I looked down at the half-empty glass she held in her hand, watched as she closed her eyes and raised it to her lips, pouring the liquid down her throat. When her eyes opened, they held a challenge. She would get her way, by all means necessary.

"Of course."

I was half way to the bar when a loud voice called for our attention. I turned immediately and found our host, the infamous Giovanni Filangieri with his curly black hair brushing along the edges of his wide shoulders.

"Signores and Signoras," he announced, "the race will be starting here shortly. Please proceed to the balcony if you would like a better view."

My eyes searched the room as the crowd migrated towards the glass doors of the balcony. There were hoards of men and women there, making it more difficult to spot our target. We were told that she was blonde, a slight woman with dark brown eyes. There were any number of women that fit that description, though none seemed to be swarming around Donatella or Giovanni.

I saw Sookie head out with the crowd, clenching my free fist when Giovanni's fat fingers brushed on the small of her back to lead her out. He'd been overly friendly when we arrived, lingering as he pressed his lips to Sookie's knuckles and told her how honored he was by her presence. Ah yes, I'm sure he'd be honored to have her presence in my ways.

_Snap out of it Northman._

I was on a mission. I shouldn't care if Filangieri thought Sookie was attractive; it would only work to our benefit. He was our link to Lorena, our link to Leclerq. His admiration for Sookie's figure would only help our forward progress, even if it did make me want to toss him over the edge of his balcony.

Sookie darted an uncertain glance over her shoulder, seeking out my eyes briefly before turning her attention back to Filangieri and laughing a little too forcefully at whatever he was saying. The crowd filtered out as I continued towards the bar, stopping to check my watch as I waited for the room to empty.

The last stragglers left in short order. The wait staff and I the only people left in the open expanse that had served to host the party. I had Sookie's flute filled and made my way towards the balcony doors, turning at the last minute into the long hallway that led to the private rooms of the villa. I checked over my shoulder, ensuring that I hadn't been spotted. The pretty waitresses were too busy flaunting their scantily clad bodies, pausing and chattering in hopes of catching the attention of their male counterparts. No, no one had seen me, of that I could be sure.

I set down Sookie's champagne on a nearby ledge and stole down the vacant hallway, passing by the open doorways that led to the restroom and library, rounding the corner to find the doors in this corridor firmly closed. This is where I would find something, if I found anything.

I crept along the hallway, listening for any stray sounds that would alert me to an intruder. I heard the sound of a horn blaring, announcing the start of the race below and the murmur that followed as the spectators began to cheer on their crews.

I tested the handle of one of the closed doors, opening it to reveal a large bedroom that looked as if it hadn't been used recently. The creases on the duvet were far too meticulous to be in use, and a fine layer of dust covered the armoire that hung barely open, as if the room's last resident had left in a hurry. There would be nothing here.

I eased the door shut behind me and continued down the hall, stopping as I heard two women's voices heatedly arguing with one another behind one of the closed doors.

Before I could get any closer to get any more detail, I saw the handle push down. I jumped back to the door that had been open and slid in, pressing myself against the closed door as the voices I'd heard earlier carried down the hall.

The footsteps became louder until they stopped in the hallway outside of the room I was currently in. "I saw how you were looking at him Donatella," a woman with an accent I couldn't identify easily said.

"He's a good looking man Lorena," Donatella said in her heavily accented English. "I'd be blind to ignore him."

Ah ha, so I'd found the elusive Lorena.

"That is not what I am saying Donnie," the woman identified as Lorena said with a scoff. "If you are interested in him, you might be able to get him away from her. I haven't had anything British in awhile. It'd be a lovely treat. What I wouldn't do to get that one alone."

Our bait had worked, though I hadn't intended upon being Donatella's prey. I would adapt. I always did.

"I saw Giovanni with her earlier," Donatella said. "I am not so sure that he will be willing to share that one with you."

"Darling," Lorena said with a laugh. "If Giovanni will share you with me, I am certain that I will have no problem getting him to let me play with his English target. Perhaps you can interest him in the husband. He is good looking, if you enjoy men."

Their voices trailed off into the distances as they walked down the hallway, returning to their waiting guests outside. When I was sure that the hallway was empty, I eased out of the empty room, eager to track down Lorena now that I knew she was at the party.

The sun was beating down on the heads of the revelers, loud cheers erupting from every corner as the long boats made their way past down below. There was something infinitely civilized about a regatta – even the cheers had a polish to them that you didn't find in any other sport, with the exception of polo, sailing and possibly cricket, depending upon the venue.

After adjusting to the brightness on the balcony, I surveyed the crowd, looking for Donatella's dark head and hoping to spy an unfamiliar blonde one next to it. I quickly spotted Giovanni's dark head, still standing next to Red. They were standing along the railing, Red leaning slightly over the edge as she watched the progression below. A slight tap on her shoulder, and Red turned around, unaware of my observation as she looked into Giovanni's dark eyes. Her body was turned towards him, open to suggestion as he leaned down and whispered in her ear, lingering beyond the necessary time. I saw her eyes open in surprise before her facial expression smoothed over and her eyes darted to her right.

I followed Red's eyes, my own widening in comprehension as I saw the two women approaching her. It appeared the mountain was coming to Moses.

Red simpered and dimpled at her introduction to Lorena, lowering her eyes in mock modesty after Lorena whispered something in her ear. It appeared as if Lorena wasn't one to hold one back; or at least not when Red was concerned. I couldn't blame her. Red looked delectable in her blue dress. The fabric clung to her curves in all the right places, fluttering between her legs in the wind, reminding me of the way the red fabric of her dress had pooled around her thighs.

I stood back, allowing Red to have her chance with Lorena. I would step in soon enough. I stepped into the crowd, attempting to obscure my tall frame into the crowd. I'd learned early on when it was time to blend in, and when it was time to stand out. Here, now, it was time to blend in. I was nearly to the railing opposite of Red and Lorena when I heard my name called out loud.

"Sheriff!?" the voice shrieked from behind me. "Is that you?"

My spine stiffened, and I looked around quickly, ensuring that no one had heard the call. When I was satisfied that no one had heard, or at least no one had cared, I turned to face the owner of the shrill voice.

_Fantastic._

"Amelia Carmichael," I said, leaning down to kiss her cheeks as I tried to stifle my groan. Amelia Carmichael worked for MI5. I'd had a run-in (or rather a stay-in) with Amelia a year ago when I had last been in London. She wasn't an agent herself, or hadn't been at the time. One night with a few too many bottles of champagne, and the rest, as they say, is history.

"Broadway," she said with a smirk.

"Excuse me?"

"It's Amelia Broadway now."

I squeezed her left hand, searching for a ring that would give away her change in status. Her laughter filled the air as she shook her head.

"Oh God no," she said, tugging at my hands to lead us to a more secluded area down a flight of steps cut into the cliffs. She stopped only when we were well out of earshot of the other guests. "You should know better than that. Marriage wouldn't suit me at all. Imagine not being able to lock myself in a room with a tall stranger for the weekend." I smiled as I recalled doing just that with her. "Or a short Swedish stranger," she added with a wink. Ah yes, I'd heard rumor of her rendezvous with R, though it had never found any footing, thanks to R's ability to bury just about anything alive.

"Is that so?" I asked, with a quirk of my eyebrow.

"Hmmm, wouldn't you like to know?" She ran her hand through her short, dark hair and looked across the balcony. "But, now onto something I would like to know. Who's the brunette you walked in with Sheriff?" Her eyebrows were practically at her hairline as mirth filled her eyes.

"Caroline?" I asked.

"Is that her name? Well, either way, yes, _Caroline. _Rumor has it she's your wife._"_ The laughter in her voice threatened to spill over. "I didn't think you had it in you Sheriff."

"David," I said, with mock solemnity. As amusing as her nickname was for me, there was a time and a place.

"Ah yes, David. I'd nearly forgotten. Tell me, David, are you in Positano for very long?" She stepped closer, brushing her chest against my bare arm in invitation.

"For a few days at least."

"Hmmm, perhaps we can have a reunion later then," she said, stepping closer to remind me exactly what it was that she was offering.

My interest may have been piqued at any other time, but not now. Not when the memory of Red was so fresh in my mind. It wasn't like me. Once I had a woman, no matter how beautiful she may be, my interest did not stay for very long. I moved on. I had to.

"Hmmm," I responded, distracted by the noise from the crowd above, "perhaps."

"I'm sure I could find a way to entice you," she continued, throwing away any pretenses as she pressed herself against me fully, the back of her hand brushing against the seam of my pants. She emitted a sigh of frustration when I didn't respond.

"Don't tell me the great Sherriff has changed that much."

I placed my hands on her shoulders, pushing her away from me as I smirked down at her. "Afraid not Carmichael. You know me, one track mind." I winked at her before leaning down to brush a kiss against her cheek. "Staying at Le Sirenuse?"

She nodded, the pout set on her full lips as she told me her room number and extended the invitation to join her later.

I dismissed myself and headed up the few stairs to rejoin the crowd. I was distracted by the thought of the brunette behind me, too distracted to notice the brunette in front me as I slammed into her body, knocking her backwards. My hands flew out, quick enough to catch her before she fell all the way to the ground. I clasped her frame to me instinctively, and let out a sigh when the familiar contours pressed into my body.

"Red," I said with a smile as she squirmed against me. What Amelia's hand had been unable to do, the mere scent and feel of Red's body did in seconds.

"Somerset," she said in her clipped British accent. "I was wondering where you had run off to."

"I was becoming reacquainted with an old friend." She peered around my shoulder, still locked tightly in my embrace. I felt her body stiffen and knew that she must've seen the friend I was reacquainting myself with.

"Really?" she asked lowly. "You can't behave yourself for even an hour?" The sarcasm in her voice belied disgust, and dare I say jealousy.

"Jealous darling?"

Her eyes flew up to meet mine, their blue depths revealing confusion. "Should I be… darling?"

"Of course not."

I heard Amelia's footsteps on the stairs behind me, though I would have known she was nearing by Red's reaction as she pushed herself away from me.

"You must introduce me to your wife, David," Amelia said, laying a possessive hand on my arm as she stopped next to me.

"Amelia Broadway, Caroline Somerset." I didn't need to say more than that. The two women quickly assessed each other from head to toe, no doubt filing away each other's flaws for later review.

"Pleasure," Amelia said with a dimpled smile.

"No, the pleasure is all mine," Red said, placing a hand on my other arm, effectively dismissing Amelia. Amelia, for her part, shrugged her shoulders before sauntering off and reminding me of her invitation.

"David," Red said loud enough for Amelia to hear as she walked away. Red stepped closer, standing on her tip toes to brush her lips across my neck. I had to admit, I liked a jealous Sookie. Even if she'd never admit she was jealous of Amelia, her actions spoke volumes.

"Yes Caroline?" For all I knew, for all I cared, Amelia could have been across the room.

"Signore and Signora Filangieri have invited us to return tonight."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. It appears that you've caught Donatella's eye. They're having a _private_ party. A small, _intimate_ gathering."

***

The race ended shortly thereafter, the Amalfi crew passing the finish line barely ahead of the Venetians. The crowd at Filangieri's villa dissipated quickly, the local contingent eager to get out to the streets, to the beach, where the real celebration was underway. The alcohol had flown freely, erasing the separation between the elite and the commoners, the natives and the tourists.

I could sense Red's excitement as we walked through the winding streets to return to our hotel. She reached out and grabbed my hand, her fingers entwining with my own. The high of victory at winning the invitation, combined with the unavoidable exhilaration that poured through the streets transformed her into a different person. I was reminded of the Red I'd glimpsed for moments in the throes of passion, when she'd let herself completely go.

Only when we were in the privacy of our hotel room did she speak.

"I think we've got something."

I sat down on the bed next to her, the bed I'd hoped to be sharing with her later, after we returned from our late-night excursion.

"She's unlike any operative I've seen of Leclerq's," she continued. "She slipped up. Not enough to really get any information, but enough that I know I can get more out of her. With a few promises, a few drinks, I know I can get something on Leclerq. Or at least Sophie-Anne. If I get her alone…" she trailed off. The smile on her face was enchanting.

"Yes?" I asked, my body responding to the thought of the two of them alone. Lorena was a beautiful woman.

"I'm sure she'd be willing to tell me anything," she said with a shrug. "I have my talents."

Oh, I knew about her talents.

"And you're willing to do whatever it takes?" My voice was heavy with raw lust as visions of Red's naked body flashed before my eyes.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"You have no idea."

But I'd never find out.

When we returned to the villa, we weren't greeted with smiles and innuendos as expected. While Lorena, and the Filangieri's were scantily clad and prepared for our arrival, they weren't prepared to greet us. In fact, they wouldn't be greeting anyone ever again.

Someone had been there before us. Someone had left them exactly as they were, their limbs entwined and their blood staining the carpet below them.

* * *

**AN:** So… what did you think? I'll be the first to admit that Lorena's death was as shocker, even as I wrote it. Hope you enjoyed it!

*cue Bond music*

And thanks to Blue77 for noticing my alias name switch, which has been corrected *shakes head at self*


	4. 4 An Unwelcomed Interruption

**Chapter 4 – An Unwelcomed Interruption**

The shock at seeing the three bodies intact with the exception of a red slit at their throats, posed in a rather compromising position, was momentary. My senses were immediately heightened, as was always the case when I came across situations like this, which unfortunately were more frequent than they should be, or would be in any other line of work.

Someone had been here before us. Someone who didn't know we were expected. Or, perhaps they did, and left us an intricate, macabre calling card. One never knew in this world.

I clasped Sookie's hand as she stepped forward, pulling her back tightly against me. "Don't move," I whispered. "They could still be here." I stepped back and brought her with me, unwilling to release the hold I had on her for fear that she'd do something irrational. She resisted momentarily, finally averting her eyes and following my lead.

When we were securely outside, I dialed R's number and pulled Sookie behind me. There were hundreds of people out on the street, drunk from the sangria and wine that had flowed freely at Amalfi's win. We passed couples locked in passionate embraces that echoed the scene we'd just left, though those we passed weren't motionless, and there was no blood to be seen.

"What?" R snapped after the second ring.

"Hello to you too Sunshine," I said with a smile in my voice.

"Cut the bullshit Northman. Why are you calling me in the middle of the night? Did Agent Stackhouse rebuff your advances and you need a shoulder to cry on?"

I chuckled as I continued to wind through the crowd, pulling Sookie behind me.

"Not quite. I'm afraid you're going to need to call the local authorities."

That got her attention. I heard her sharp intake of breath before she said, "Were you compromised?"

"Not exactly." I pulled up short to let a crowd of drunken teenagers pass before us and let out a groan when I felt Sookie's body slam into me from behind, obviously not aware that I had stopped. Her breasts pressed against my shoulder, reminding me how much I'd looked forward to seeing what she had encased herself in for the evening's events. There was no doubt in my mind that it was tiny, the type of pretty wrapping meant to make a man (or woman as was the case) want nothing more than to take it off and see what was underneath. But now I suspected that I wouldn't find out. Shame that. I might have had a chance of getting her attention again tonight, even briefly between her subtle interrogations of Lorena. There would have been a certain expectation that husband and wife would interact. But that would have to wait. There were more urgent matters to attend.

"What happened Northman?" R asked, pulling me back into the present. I pressed forward, winding my way through the cobblestoned alleyways towards the beach. It was always best to be in a crowd in this situation; best to be seen by as many people as you could, and to distance yourself from the scene.

"Looks like they had another visitor before us."

"Did you interrupt them?" R asked. "Do we have a lead on Leclerq?"

"No. The other visitors didn't have the same idea in mind as we did. Something similar to what happened at the Russell affair last year."

"I see," R said, full comprehension in her voice. "Were you spotted?"

"No," I said assuredly. If we had been spotted, we wouldn't have been able to make our way this far.

"And you've found your way out I'm assuming?"

"Yes."

"Excellent. I will take care of it from here."

"I knew you would."

R scoffed and I heard movement on her side of the phone. "Northman?" she asked with a lilt in her voice.

"Yes?"

"Do stay away. I'd hate to have to send Quinn in your place. I can only imagine what he would think of Miss Stackhouse." The phone clicked on the other end, alerting me abruptly that the conversation was ended.

I felt the fire burn in my blood at the mention of Quinn's name. To say we didn't get along would be putting it mildly. He had joined the UNDK shortly after I had, and we had been battling for dominance since the day we met. He was everything I wasn't – aggressive, forceful and brutish. He had no elegance, no savvy for the intricacies of the business. Most of his missions ended with someone dead at his hands – not to say that my missions didn't end the same way sometimes. It was inevitable in certain situations, but not in all. Things tended to get a little out of hand when Quinn was involved. He was what R had liked to call The Clean-Up Man, sent in only after a mission had been compromised to take care of things. He was too much of a loose cannon to send in initially, too much of a liability. But he was excellent at erasing all traces of our involvement, and for that alone R kept him on.

I heard Red's breath hitch behind me and turned around in time to catch her from falling over a rock that protruded from the rough path. I righted her, my hands lingering on her shoulders as I looked down into her eyes. They were full of confusion and something else – pain perhaps?

"Is something wrong?" I asked, rubbing my thumb back and forth across the bare skin of her shoulder.

She shook her head, standing stock still. "I'm okay."

She didn't look okay. She looked far from okay.

While the scene we'd come upon was nothing less than shocking, I wouldn't expect someone in Red's position to let it affect her so. We were trained assassins. We had to bury those kinds of images and move on. It was our job.

I pulled her tightly against me, her body relaxing against mine only after I brushed my hand down her spine. "It's okay," I murmured, my lips brushing against her dark wig.

"I know," she whispered, barely audible over the sound of a group of men walking by and calling out _Bella Signore _as they passed. Her cheek brushed across the front of my dress shirt as she tilted her head up to look at me. "I'm being silly," she said, admonishing herself.

"No," I assured, "It's not something you ever really get used to seeing."

"No, it isn't. But it's not like I haven't seen it before." She pushed away from me, collecting herself and running a hand over her short wig. "Your people are taking care of it?"

I nodded and turned my attention to the beach. The waves were lapping against the shore, the bright lights of the villas above illuminating the sand below. A lone young girl walked forcefully away from a group, only to be followed by a young man who picked her up and swung her around eliciting laughter that floated across the air. I smiled ruefully at the nature of the scene. I couldn't remember the last time I had been able to be that carefree, and doubted I would ever be able to again.

"Should we go?" she asked simply.

"Not yet," I responded, grabbing her hand in mine. "We need to make sure that no one followed us."

We casually strolled through the streets - or as casually as we could – looking for all the world like two lovers enjoying the beauty of the scenery. We stopped to buy gelato from one of the street vendors before we began our journey up the hill to our empty villa. We walked past the open doorway of the Filangieri residence, which was by now full of uniformed _Carabiniere____ taking photos of the crime scene__._ It was a bit paradoxical, enjoying our ice cream as the women and man we were to be with were dislodged from one another and examined separately.

Red's grip tightened on my hand as she looked inside, and I moved my arm over her shoulders, pulling her frame against mine to offer what little comfort I was able to provide. There was a story there, of that I was sure. I only doubted that Red would share.

We walked the remaining distance to our villa in silence. I placed my finger on Red's lips, telling her to remain silent as I circled the villa looking for any signs of intrusion. She let out a breath of relief when I opened the front door and ushered her inside, closing the door firmly behind us. She kicked out of her high heeled sandals and sat on the sofa, burying her head in her hands.

"Tell me what is wrong," I demanded.

She looked up sharply. "I don't know what you mean."

I walked towards her and stopped when I was standing directly in front of her, giving her no place to look but at me. She refused initially, staring at the front of my pants and remaining silent. After a minute of silence, she tilted her head back until she met my eyes.

"It's okay Red. I won't tell anyone," I reassured.

She looked at me skeptically before shrugging her shoulders. "I shouldn't be like this," she started, looking away from me and out the glass doors that led to our terrace. "I'm _not _like this," she said firmly.

"I never said you were."

"It doesn't do anyone any good if I react like this. If someone had been there… if you hadn't taken us away…" she trailed off.

I sat down on the coffee table across from her, grateful that it was sturdy enough to hold my weight. I reached out and took her hands in my own and waited until she turned back to face me.

"There wasn't," I said, "I was."

She nodded and bit her full lower lip, sucking it into her mouth. The desire to lean forward and do the job for her was strong, but I was stronger. She didn't need me making sexual advances right now.

When she didn't say anything, I continued. "Would you like to tell me about it?"

Her breath was ragged as she closed her eyes. "My parents died when I was seven," she said finally. "They took my brother and me to stay with my Gran, only they never came back." Her eyes opened and there was a shimmer of unshed tears. "Gran told us that they were in a car accident. That they had been killed on their way home along with another couple." She let out a sigh. "We believed her. Of course we would. And she was just trying to protect us…" she trailed off.

I gently began to rub my thumbs over her wrists for comfort. I could tell this wasn't something she was used to talking about, probably hadn't talked about.

"The kids all whispered when I went back to school. They all treated me differently. I didn't think much of it – of course kids are going to act differently when my parents were killed. But then my friend Tara told me what they were saying. Sheriff Dearborn's daughter was in our class and overheard her dad talking about it. They weren't in a car accident at all. They had been at a…" she paused. "A party. A party that upset one of the women's ex-boyfriends, so much that he came and ended it with a knife. I didn't understand what kind of party it was at the time, of course, only that it was something more than what Gran had said." She shook her head. "I refused to believe it, but even Gran admitted that they hadn't died in a car accident when I asked. She didn't tell me anything other than that a bad man had killed my parents. He was never caught."

"I-" I started, stopping when she shook her head.

"Don't," she started. "Let me finish. It wasn't until years later when I was in training that I put the final pieces together. It was only after I asked Sheriff Dearborn to show me the pictures from the crime scene that I realized what kind of party they'd been too exactly. There they were, face down in blood, wearing nothing at all. A whole group of them, cut to pieces by a jealous ex-lover."

I leaned forward and pulled her towards me, wrapping my arms around her frame. "I haven't thought of it in years," she said quietly against my shoulder. "But seeing that tonight…" she trailed off, a single tear leaving her eye and dropping onto the crisp cotton of my shirt.

Despite every effort to the contrary, we all had our weak moments. Something would inevitably hit too close to home and pull us back to reality. It was how quickly you could get over it, how quickly you could recover that made the difference. She rested against me for a minute before wiggling out of my grip. She gave me a tentative smile and sat back, pulling the dark wig off her hair. She looked so lost, so forlorn that I did the only thing I could think of. I leaned forward, reaching to help her remove the bobby pins that held her golden locks in place, not saying a word until it tumbled down over her shoulders.

I ran my hands through the silky tresses and said, "Thank you."

She leaned into my palm and looked up at me questioningly. "For what?"

"For sharing yourself with me."

She looked startled briefly before she nodded. "Thank you for listening."

She shifted forward, almost imperceptibly; her lips brushing across the palm of my hand that had moved to her cheek. Her eyes met mine, full of question and need, and then she grabbed the edge of my shirt, pulling me towards her in a desperate motion.

I fell towards her, rolling to protect her as we fell the short distance to the floor. Our mouths collided, hot and wet and desperate for each other. Her kiss was everything I remembered, though how it could not be when our lips had met only three days ago?

Her hands were frantic, tugging at my short hair as she moved my head to a better angle. I groaned as she writhed above me, straddling my waist with her legs. The short dress she'd donned for the Filiangieri's party pushed up to reveal the tops of her stockings. My fingers danced across the skin that was exposed there, pushing the silky fabric up further until my hands rested on her bare hips, a thin scrap of lace the only thing covering her.

"Eric," she groaned, sitting up and pulling her dress off the rest of the way. She wasn't fooling around here. She needed something from me. Something I was more than happy to provide. I'd been there myself, seeking the exact same remedy. There was a primal response to seeing death, a need to reaffirm life, and what better way to do it than through the act of life itself?

I grinned as I took her in, grateful for many reasons that our evening's plans had been interrupted and that her get-up for the evening was revealed to me in private. There was no way I would have been able to keep my hands off of her at the Filangieri's. Her breasts were held high, encased in the sheerest black lace I'd ever seen, matching the fabric that covered her below. I placed my hands at her waist and ran the backs of my fingers from the bottom of her ribs up to her clavicle, eliciting a groan of satisfaction when they brushed against her hardened nipples.

I was startled when she clasped my hands in her own and pushed them against her breasts, throwing her head back when I took the lead and dipped my thumbs inside the lacy cups. I sat up, pulling her body tightly against my own, reaching around to undo the clasp in one flick. The straps of the garment fell down her arms, revealing the delicate skin that lay beneath as it slipped down her body, falling between us.

My hands encircled her hips and I lifted her back up onto the couch, positioning myself between her legs on my knees so that we were eye to eye. She looked incredibly sexy sitting there in her stockings and the scrap of fabric covering her sex. Nothing turned me on more than a beautiful woman almost naked in front of me while I was fully dressed… well, nothing more than when I was naked with her.

I cupped her breasts, leaning forward to capture her mouth again, relishing in the taste of her mixed with the pistachio gelato she'd finished minutes ago. I licked at the corners of her mouth and smiled when she whimpered my name.

When I couldn't take anymore, I pushed her gently back against the couch and moved her legs until she was laying prone, her eyes begging me to continue where I'd left off. I was more than happy to meet her silent plea, only I had something more in mind than what we had been doing before. My fingers skirted between her breasts, circling around her navel before toying with the waistband of the only thing covering her. I shifted further forward, leaning over her body, yet only touching her with my fingertips.

Her legs parted open as my fingers slid under the lacy fabric and explored what lay beneath. I watched in fascination as she writhed beneath me, pushing herself into my questing hands. She clasped at my collar, pulling my face down until it was buried in her neck. I tasted the fine layer of perspiration on her skin, inhaled the perfume she had dabbed on her pulse points and heard my breath come out in shattered gasps. She wasn't even touching me and my body was reacting, desperate to be closer to her, to be in her.

"I missed this Red," I whispered against her skin. Her arched into my hand as her head thrashed from side to side. I felt her body begin to tighten and she gasped out a plea. "Yes," she moaned, "more." Never one to refuse a challenge, I increased my pace, smiling in satisfaction when she came apart and screamed my name.

Only when she had recovered fully did she open her eyes and meet my gaze. I reluctantly pulled my hand away, leaning back on my heeled feet as I took in the expanse of her flushed skin.

"My God," she whispered, giving me one of her dimpled grins. "That was…" she trailed off.

I quirked my eyebrow and grinned. "That was what?"

She swung her legs over the side of the couch and stood up, her navel at my eye level.

"That was," she said, hooking her thumbs in the sides of her panties and pushing them down slowly, inch by excruciating inch. My eyes bulged as they slid down her legs and she kicked them off, standing in front of me wearing nothing but stockings. "Amazing."

She clasped my head and pulled it towards her, my lips coming into contact with the soft skin of her stomach. I ran my hands up and down the silk that covered her legs, groaning as she sat back on the couch, pulling me along with her. Her hands were at my waistband, my belt soon ripped off and flung across the room. Her fingers were working the button at my waistband when I heard the knock on the door.

"Ignore it," I groaned, not caring if the Queen herself was standing on the other side. Right now I only wanted one thing.

She stilled below me and placed her hands on my chest when the knock resumed. "I know you're in there," a feminine voice called from the other side.

_Fuck._ Amelia Carmichael – Broadway, whatever she was going by.

"A friend of yours?" Red asked with a smirk.

"Amelia," I responded.

Red's smirk turned into a frown as she realized who was standing on the other side of the door. "What is she doing here?" she asked, pushing me away.

"I don't know," I responded, sitting up and watching as Red grasped her dress and pulled it over her head, ignoring her bra and panties that lay on the floor.

When I didn't move from my spot on the couch, Red looked at me with a smirk. "Don't you want to get that?" And, as if on cue, Amelia called out again.

"Not especially," I said with a frown.

Red stood up and made her way over to the door, opening it with a, "Yes?"

"Oh!" I heard Amelia exclaim, though I couldn't see her. I could imagine her shock seeing Red standing at the door, breathing heavily with her hair tousled in the way only our earlier activities could do. She looked stunning standing in the moonlight. "I think I have the wrong room," I heard Amelia say.

"I doubt it," Red said with a smirk and stepped back to let Amelia in. Her slight frame stepped in through the door that Red was holding open. Amelia's eyes scanned the length of the room, finally alighting on me, still sitting on the couch with my pants half undone and my hair messed.

"Eric," Amelia said, shooting a glance back at Sookie before returning to me. She rushed over, the click-clack of her heels sounding particularly offensive to my ears. "Did you hear about…"

"The Filangieri's?" I asked. "Yes. We actually were due over there. Came across them."

Red's eyes rounded and she looked at me with a question as to why I was sharing this information.

"It's okay," I said over Amelia's shoulder to Red. "Amelia's with MI6." Red gave a knowing nod before she padded back to the living room and took a seat across from Amelia and me on the couch. She crossed her legs, and for a moment I thought we might have a _Basic Instinct_ moment. Much to my chagrin, no such incident happened.

Amelia's eyes fell on Red's bra lying on the floor and smirked at me. "I see that didn't stop you from your pursuit Sheriff."

"You know me," I said, shrugging my shoulders and ignoring Red's icy glare. It wouldn't do to say anything else. Amelia wasn't one that dropped a subject when it wasn't tactful. "What are you doing here Amelia?"

She darted a glance at Sookie before inching towards me, taunting Sookie as she laid her hand on my knee. "Indira sent me." Indira was Amelia's boss, R's counterpart at MI5, and probably the most frightening woman I'd ever met; the only woman I'd met that was completely immune to my charms. "She spoke to R tonight and asked me to come and brief you."

I raised my eyebrows. It wasn't like R to send someone from another agency to give me information, but I was willing to play along. So much information could be learned if you played the part correctly.

"Word is that Leclerq has a new partner." I looked over at Red who was watching with interest. "No one knows much about him yet," Amelia continued. "Only that he is American." She said the last word with disdain and looked over at Sookie with a pitiful smile. "No offense."

"None taken," Red said, leaning forward to show both Amelia and I that she wasn't wearing a bra, and that in fact, Amelia's earlier suspicions had been correct as to my involvement with removing it. She looked like a jealous lover, marking her territory. I could get used to this Sookie Stackhouse, if she was indeed jealous of Amelia's attentions.

I heard Amelia huff and her hand traveled further up my leg, getting dangerously close to the Red-induced erection that I'd been trying to will down. Knowing that Amelia's attentions wouldn't do me any favors, I jumped up and walked over towards Sookie, stopping when I was behind her chair to face Amelia.

"What about him?" I asked.

"He apparently had some dealings with Lorena in the past," she said with a shrug and leaned back against the cushion of the couch. "Some _bad _dealings."

"What are you trying to say?"

"Indira believes that the new associate had something to do with tonight."

It made sense. Though Lorena was one of Leclerq's new girls, it was common knowledge that he was just as quick to drop them as to pick them up. His girls, with the exception of Sophie-Anne, were highly disposable, like cheap cameras you bought at the corner store.

"He's here in Positano?" Sookie asked.

Amelia shrugged. "Possibly."

"Where were you earlier Amelia?" I asked suspiciously. One could never be too careful.

"Getting ready for the Filangieri's party," she responded, crossing her legs. "Agent Stackhouse here wasn't the only one that caught Lorena's eye you know," she said pointedly at Red. "Tray and I were invited as well." Tray Dawson, one of MI5's top agents was here. I had spotted him earlier. And while I couldn't make myself trust Amelia, I knew that Dawson wasn't one that would cross MI6.

"Where is he?"

"He's at the scene. Indira pulled some strings to get him there." Tray had always been interested in the forensic side of things. I tended to leave that to the experts, and follow the trail I found my own way. It sounded like this new associate of Leclerq's was the one we needed to find now.

We sat in silence for a moment before Sookie stood up. "Thank you for the information Amelia," she said politely, her forced Southern charm seeping out from her pores. It was obvious she wanted to get Amelia out of here and quickly.

"My pleasure," Amelia purred, looking directly at me. "Eric?"

"Yes?"

"Can I have a word with you in private?" Amelia stood up and made her way towards the door.

"I don't think that's – " I started.

"By all means," Red said, walking over to the couch to pick up her panties, which she waved like a flag in front of Amelia's eyes. "Don't let me get in your way." Her eyes met mine in challenge, daring me to make the wrong move. I wanted to get Amelia out of here fast, to recapture the lost moment I'd had with Red. I felt Red's eyes on me as I stood up and walked Amelia out.

"What is it?" I asked when we reached the doorway. Amelia was silent as Red retreated to the bathroom, and she only relaxed when the door shut behind Red.

"I'm surprised," Amelia said.

"By what?"

"I didn't think you went for blondes." She nodded in the direction Red had retreated to. "And Americans at that."

I didn't say anything as I leaned against the door jamb. There was nothing I could say. I hadn't been known to go for blondes, quite the opposite really, but things changed. "Who said I went for anything?"

Amelia laughed, throwing her head back to reveal the neck I had spent hours devouring with my mouth that one night. "As if her little display wasn't enough, you can't fool me Northman," she said. "Why, I bet if I had been ten minutes later, I would have found you in a rather compromising position. Shame really."

_Ten minutes? Try ten seconds._

"Shame?"

"Yes," Amelia said with a shrug. She reached up and grabbed my face, pulling it down to hers. I pulled back when she placed her lips on mine. "I would've liked to know that I was the reason you stopped fucking that."

**AN:** He's back! Thanks to everyone that alerts, favorites, reviews, etc... and thanks to everyone for waiting patiently for Mr. Northman to visit me again. Terribly inconvenient, these missions he goes away on for weeks at a time.

Thanks to Sun for being an awesome beta! All mistakes remaining are my own!

And, on a completely different note, I've started (yet) another story. It's an Alcide/Sookie fic (no Eric gasp) but I am really enjoying it and hope you will too. It's called The Heat is in the Tools and the link is in my profile!

Hope you enjoyed Red and Agent Northman! Let me know what you think!

**POST AN**: Thanks to **blue77 **and **YourJoyIsMyLow **for pointing out my fatal errors - both have been corrected! *hugs*


	5. 5 A Cause for Alarm

**AN:** *peeks in* Anyone still out there? It appears Agent Northman hasn't gone MIA after all.

* * *

**Chapter 5 - A Cause for Alarm**

I stayed in the living room long after I closed the door on Amelia. Despite my primal desire to do the opposite, I knew I needed to give Red her space. For awhile at least. She'd shared herself with me, both emotionally and physically. Women like Red liked to be in control, something I had been happy to let her play at in our time on Martinique. In this profession, it wasn't often that you were able to open up like that to another. Any information you gave out could be used against you.

I unhooked the cufflinks and set them on the coffee table I'd sat on shortly ago, rolling back the sleeves of my white shirt as I contemplated my next move. I would have to go back and talk to her eventually. She would know by the silence that encompassed the villa that Amelia was gone, though she'd made no move to come back out. Maybe she was waiting for me. I imagined her lying on the bed, the sheets draped across her hips as she beckoned me with a 'come hither' stare and the crook of her finger. With that thought, I headed towards the single bedroom.

I opened the door without a knock and frowned to myself when I didn't see her. The bed was still crisply made, with no indication of inhabitation.

"Red?" I called out, wondering if she was playing some elaborate game of hide and seek.

I sensed movement to my left and smiled when I saw her silhouette through the crack in the bathroom door. I moved noiselessly, pushing the door open and meeting her eyes in the large mirror. She was still wearing the dress she'd hastily pulled on. The dress I knew she was wearing nothing under since I was holding her discarded bra in my hand.

"There you are," I said, leaning against the door frame.

"My, aren't you just a regular super spy?" she asked, cocking her eyebrow.

I shrugged. "That's what I've been told."

She turned around and jumped up onto the bathroom counter, crossing her legs and leaning forward onto her hands, her shoulders flirting around her ears. "Did Amelia tell you that…Sheriff?" The last word was drowned in laughter.

"She told me many things," I responded, holding her bra out to her, "but that was not one of them."

Red took her bra from my hand and turned it over in her hands, examining it slowly. "Did she wear something like this?"

She'd worn far less, if truth be told. "Do you care?" I retorted.

"Not particularly," she shrugged. "Though Amelia seemed to care when she found this."

"I don't." I stepped forward. "Care that is." I reached out and cupped the side of her face in my hand, rubbing my thumb across her full bottom lip. She leaned into my hand, resting her cheek against my palm before she pulled back fully.

"I spoke to Sam."

What in the hell did Sam have to do with this? My hand, frozen in the air where it had cupped her cheek, dropped to my side.

"There will be a helicopter for us in the morning," she continued. "We'll fly from Naples to Dublin."

So, this is how we were going to play it? I could adjust. "Why Dublin?" I asked.

"He didn't say," she answered with a shrug, jumping off the counter.

"You didn't ask?"

She shook her head and spun around. "There's no point. We'll find out when we get there."

I heard my phone beep, alerting me that a message waited. Stepping back into the bedroom to give Red her space, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and saw the message to call R.

_Dublin – 11 am_

R never was one to mince her words. I dropped my phone onto the dresser and turned around to survey the room in front of me. Last night Red had taken the bed for herself and I had been out on the couch. I wondered if it would be different tonight, given our earlier interaction. I was hoping we could pick up where we left off, because while Red had gotten her release, I hadn't.

I heard Red move behind me before I felt her small hands on my shoulders.

"My, you're tense tonight Sheriff," she said as she began to massage the muscles beneath.

"Imagine that," I replied.

"Hmmm, yes I suppose you might be a little worked up. It has been a long day after all."

"The day has nothing to do with it Red," I practically growled as I spun around and caught her by surprise. My hands circled her waist, the silky fabric bunching under my fingers. She had changed from her earlier attire and was wearing a scrap of fabric that was a poor excuse for a nightgown, not that I was complaining. Her arms dangled on the tops of my shoulders, and she met my gaze with a wry smile.

"Is that so?"

"Yes, that's so."

"Then what, pray tell, made you so tense?" she asked innocently, batting her eyelashes in my direction.

"I think you have a very good idea of what made me tense, Red," I whispered, lowering my voice as I inched closer to her. I felt her body shiver in response to my nearness, to my touch, and couldn't help myself from smiling. "Shame that we were interrupted."

"Yes, it was, wasn't it?" she asked, tilting her head to the side to offer me a broader expanse of her neck. I brushed my lips along the delicate veins, tasting her skin along the way. "Tell me about Amelia," she said as my mouth reached her clavicle.

"Now?" I asked with a groan. The last thing I wanted to do right now was talk about Amelia. My body was back to full attention, certain parts saluting the woman that was brushing against me in the most sinuous manner imaginable. How could she possibly want to talk about another woman? I nipped at her clavicle and skimmed my hands up her back as I pulled her closer to me.

"Yes," she said with a groan, burying her fingers in my hair and pulling my face away from her neck. "Now." She took a step backwards, looking completely ridiculous wearing a serious expression and a see through nightgown.

"What do you want to know?" I asked, and turned around to resume my preparation for bed. I could play serious if that was what she wanted.

"Can she be trusted?"

"I believe so," I said. "I've only worked with her once."

"Worked? Is that what you call it?" she asked, a hint of jealousy in her voice, though she'd never admit to it.

"Yes," I replied as I turned around, choosing to ignore the bait she's provided. "We worked with MI5 on a case in London last year. Amelia was, erm, rather helpful in a few areas."

"I'm sure she was," Red said, cocking her eyebrow with a smirk. "It looked rather like she would like to _help _you again."

"Jealous darling?" I asked.

"Hardly," she responded with a shrug. "There's just something about her that I don't trust."

I could guess what that was.

"Indira trusts her. And I trust Indira," I said. "I suppose there is room for caution, but she has done nothing to warrant anything at this time."

Sookie drew her bottom lip into her teeth, as she often did when she was mulling something over. "Okay. Yes, I suppose she hasn't done anything yet." She paused for a moment before continuing, her voice much less certain than before. "Why does she call you Sheriff?"

"Excuse me?" I asked, trying to hide my smile.

"She called you Sheriff. There has to be a story behind that," she said, trying to sound nonchalant as she rounded the bed and slipped beneath the covers. It took every ounce of will power to remain where I was when she was lying there, looking at me under those hooded eyes.

"There is," I responded slowly.

"Tell me."

"It's not important."

"I want to know," she insisted, and reached out to pat the bed beside her. She laughed when I quirked my eyebrow in question at her hand. "We've had sex Eric. I think we can sleep next to each other."

Never one to pass up an opportunity, I unbuttoned my pants and allowed them to drop to my feet before kicking out of them and climbing in next to her. I propped myself up on my elbow and looked down at her with a smile. This night was getting better and better. Maybe I would be getting my release after all.

"Tell me," she said, barely above a whisper.

"It's not that interesting," I said.

"I'll tell you if I think it's interesting or not," she responded.

"When I was in London last year –"

"And you 'worked' with Amelia?" she interrupted sarcastically.

"Do you want me to tell the story or not?"

"Sorry. Continue." She made the movement as if she were locking her lips and throwing away the key.

"I was in London last year on the Bartlett case. I'm assuming you've heard of it?" She nodded. "Excellent. Well, as you know, Bartlett ran his businesses through the front of The Zebra Club, yeah?" She nodded again. "Indira had an inside track and got me an audition for a private party. She needed someone that wasn't a known quantity to infiltrate."

"You worked at a gay strip club?" Red asked incredulously.

I shrugged. "For one night. That's all it took."

I heard her laughter in the darkness. "What I wouldn't pay to see that."

"I'd be willing to give you a preview for free," I suggested, rolling my hips in her direction and brushing my evident arousal against her bare thigh.

"I might have to take a rain check on that," she said, placing her hand on my hip to keep me at bay. "But, how does this relate to you being nicknamed Sheriff?"

"That's the role I played."

"What?" she asked with a giggle.

"The night I worked at the club, they dressed me up like an old west Sheriff."

"Did you have chaps?" she asked. "A big, shiny Sheriff's badge?"

"Yeah. And a vest and cowboy hat."

"What else?" she asked, the laughter underlying her voice. "Wranglers?"

"No. No pants."

She audibly swallowed and I saw the whites of her eyes widen. "What did you wear then? Under your chaps?"

"Red briefs," I said with a smirk. "Tight, red briefs."

She made a noise that sounded suspiciously like "unf" before continuing. "And Amelia calls you Sheriff because…?" she trailed off.

"I needed someone to practice my moves on."

"Oh," she said. "Oh! Wow."

"Just think. If that had been last year, you could've been the one calling me Sheriff as I stripped for you."

"Yes, well…"

"She rather liked it," I said with a smirk. "I'd imagine you would too."

When she didn't say anything, I smiled into the dark. "Does that answer your question?"

"Yeah," she said. "Yeah it does."

We laid in silence as I waited for her to make her next move. She appeared to be frozen in place; even her breathing was so shallow I could barely see the movement of her chest. After a moment, I leaned over her.

"You okay there Red?"

"What? Oh. Yes. Yes I am," she said. I felt her squirm next to me and wondered if it was because she was envisioning me in my get-up. Good. Let her see what it was like to be a bit sexually frustrated. As much as I'd like to have my way with her tonight, it might be better to let her squirm a bit.

"Good," I said with a nod, though she couldn't see it. I leaned down until my mouth was centimeters from her ear. "Though, I can give CPR if necessary."

"Uh huh," she groaned.

"Night Red."

"What?"

"Goodnight Red," I repeated, brushing a kiss against her temple. "Don't let the bed bugs bite."

"That's the least of my concerns," she said below her breath.

***

**Dublin, Ireland - 53° 19' 59 N, 6° 14' 56 W**

Red looked like hell when we stepped off the plane in Dublin. That's what one long night of no sleep can do for you. I felt her toss and turn next to me all night, her skin brushing against mine as she sought the ever elusive position that would allow her to fall asleep. Truth be told, I hadn't done much better on the sleep front. Every time she brushed against me, every sigh, every murmur and I nearly had to pin myself down to stop from pulling her against me and taking care of everything once and for all.

I managed to fall asleep sometime in the early dawn, just as the sun was coming up, and awoke shortly thereafter to the sound of Sookie in the shower. She'd left the door ajar to prevent the small bathroom from fogging, and as a result, allowing me a brief glimpse of her golden skin as she toweled herself dry. That hadn't helped my disposition much.

"Ready?" I asked as the plane touched down on the private airfield outside of Dublin. She looked at me sideways from the plush leather chair and nodded.

R and Sam were waiting for us in the hangar, R's eyes darting back and forth between Red and me suspiciously. "Lovely of you to join us," she said with a smirk.

"R," I said. "Merlotte," I nodded in his direction.

"It's too bad about Lorena," R said, taking charge. "I rather thought we had a good chance with that one."

"We did," I affirmed. "She seemed quite taken with Agent Stackhouse."

"That's easy to imagine," Merlotte said. I looked over to see Red looking in Sam's direction, and tried to stamp down the anger I felt when she smiled at him. It wasn't jealousy. It wasn't. I didn't get jealous; and certainly not of someone's relationship with their boss.

"Yes, well, as we all know, that was taken care of for us," I interjected.

"Indira had a team there I hear?" R asked, looking pointedly at me.

"Amelia Carmichael and Agent Dawson," I said with a nod. "Dawson took care of the post mortem details."

"Not surprising," R said with a nod. "And Amelia?"

"Came to visit our villa," Red said. "Said you told her to brief us."

"Nonsense," R snapped. "I would never send someone from MI6 to brief my agents. I would suspect she had her own motives for arriving. Am I wrong about that Eric?"

"I have no idea what you mean R," I said with a smirk.

"You know exactly what she means," Red said, turning to face R. "And yes, she did appear to be snooping around for something else entirely. Though it was completely unwarranted."

Unwarranted? My having my fingers and hands on and in Red's naked body was unwarranted? I'd be curious to know what would warrant suspicion in her book.

"I hardly care," R said, looking back and forth between us. "As long as you get the job done, I do not particularly care how you do it, so long as it doesn't get the agency into trouble. Understood?" she asked at me pointedly.

I nodded. So, there were a couple of times where I had done things a little, unorthodox shall we say? I'd always managed to get away with it, yet R insisted upon warning me time and again.

"Excellent. Well, we aren't here to talk about your sexual preferences or dalliances," R said. "While it is unfortunate that we lost the lead with Lorena, the good news is that one of Merlotte's other agents managed to pick up a trail that might be useful."

She looked in Merlotte's direction. He paused for a moment, as if he was taking the time to marinate on the previous exchange before standing up and walking over to a folder on the desk.

"Yes," he said with a nod and placed the folder in Sookie's hands. "It appears that this Lorena had a run in with Leclerq's new associate in the past. We don't know all the details of course, but it was enough of an issue that Leclerq determined that Lorena was disposable."

I peered over Red's shoulder at the open folder in front of her and saw a series of pictures featuring Lorena and a dark haired man. The cameraman hadn't captured a picture of the man's face, which was unfortunate for our efforts. The man in question was of medium-to-tall height and build, though on the slighter side than not. His dark hair appeared a bit long for convention, brushing the edge of his collar.

"We do not have the name of the new party unfortunately," Sam continued. "But he is American. That much we know. I have Lafayette running a search through our databases to see if we can find possible matches on our file with Lorena, if there is anything in there that would help us determine the identity of Leclerq's new associate."

"What's the angle?" I asked, turning to face R. "Do we know why this man has teamed up with Leclerq?"

"We have an idea," R said. "Though, nothing concrete."

"Do we suspect that he is in Dublin?" Red piped up. "Do we have any leads?"

"He's not in Dublin," Sam interrupted.

"Then why are _we _in Dublin?" I asked, trying to hide the frustration in my voice. I hated the bureaucracy of the job. The need felt to transport us to places that would take us off the trail for debriefing.

"I have another agent working on it," Merlotte said. "He's in Dublin. I would like for the three of you to sit down and go over your next steps. The last thing we need is you tripping over each other."

"I didn't sign on to work with two of your people," I practically growled. I wasn't about to be usurped by some Yankee Doodle Dandy. This was my case. I'd been the one who found out about Lorena, and damned if I wasn't going to be the one that brought down Leclerq in the end.

"You will work with two of them if I say so," R said with finality. "Do not let your pride get in the way of your job Northman." The look she gave me left no room for questioning. I turned to look out the small window.

"You're to meet him on Grafton Street," Merlotte continued, as if nothing had happened. "Three o'clock."

"Then what?" I asked.

"Then you two will be off to Monaco tonight," R said. "You have received an invitation to play poker with Felipe de Castro."

I heard Sookie's intake of breath and looked over to see her eyes widen. De Castro's games were famous, and rumor had it that he had an inside track to Leclerq himself. I'd been trying to get in on one for months to no avail. "Eric, you know the drill. Clancy will wire your stake in and provide you with information." I nodded. "Agent Stackhouse, you will go and observe while Eric plays. Wear something revealing and distracting. De Castro is known for his wandering eye."

That wasn't all he was known for.

"The game is in two days at the Casino de Monte-Carlo, in the high stakes room."

"Northman," Merlotte interjected. "We are trusting you with funds that belong to the United States. R has faith in you that you will not lose."

"I never do," I responded. It wasn't arrogance if it was the truth.

"See to it that you don't. We hate to fund terrorism directly. It gets awfully messy."

***

The sun was riding high in the afternoon sky when Red and I turned onto Grafton Street. The cobbled road wound between the shops, littered with street performers, tourists and street vendors. Dublin in the early summer was a popular tourist destination, and today was no exception.

I scanned the crowd trying to spot this other agent we were to meet. R and Merlotte gave us no details other than to be in front of Brown Thomas at 3 pm. It seemed a bit ridiculous to keep us in the dark about something like this, but I was in no position to argue.

I watched as a crowed of drunk Americans stumbled by, calling out to Red as they passed. If there was one thing Dublin was known for, it was the ability to get a pint at any hour of the day. And it appeared as if this particular group had been partaking for a few hours.

"Marry me lassie," one said in a pathetic attempt at an Irish accent. "I'll make all yer dreams come true."

Red's shoulders shook with laughter as the man – nay, boy – stopped in front of her and offered her his hand. Couldn't he see that she was with someone?

"I'm afraid I'm already taken," she said with a dimpled smile, and reached out to clasp my hand.

That was more like it.

"Forget him," the boy slurred, egged on by his friend's vocal encouragement. "I'm sure I can show you a better time than he can."

"I doubt it," Red responded. "But I do appreciate the offer."

"Come on now," the boy said, his tone slightly more aggressive as he reached out and tugged at Sookie's hands. "You're American. You know we do it better than anyone." Fantastic. There was nothing like dealing with a bad drunk.

"The lady said no," I said, interjecting myself into the conversation for the first time. I heard the slight accent come out in my voice, unchecked by my frustration at the situation.

"You fucking Euro trash assholes steal all the good ones," he slurred. "First Daphne, now…" he pointed in Red's direction.

"I'd suggest you leave," Red interjected. She looked over his shoulder at the three boys standing behind him and pleaded with them. "Take care of your friend," she said. "Make sure he doesn't get in trouble with someone that's less inclined to humor him."

One – the most sober of the bunch – stepped forward and tugged at his arm. "Come on Rob," he said. "Leave the lady alone."

Rob struggled against his friend's grip for a moment before clenching at his stomach and running for the nearest rubbish bin to empty its contents. Well, that took care of that.

"You attract the strangest admirers," I said with a smirk. "First Filangieri, and now that."

"Oh hush," she said, continuing to walk towards Brown Thomas. "Just because you're jealous –"

"Me?" I asked incredulously. "Jealous?"

"Yes," she said, spinning around and stopping in front of me. "Jealous."

"Why would I be jealous?" I asked.

"Because I said we couldn't have sex again."

"Darling," I said, my voice getting low. "If I were so inclined, if we hadn't been interrupted last night, we both know that your little rule would have been broken over and over again."

She put her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes. "So you think."

"I seem to recall you writhing beneath me naked Red," I said, ignoring the gasp of the old woman who was walking by. Serves her right for eavesdropping. I leaned down until my face was inches from hers. "Begging me to touch you and screaming my name when I did."

Sookie closed her eyes and shook her head. "It was a mistake."

"It wasn't a mistake," I insisted.

"I was overwhelmed," she continued. "I wasn't myself. After I told you about my parents…well, it shouldn't have happened."

"You can give me all the excuses you want Red. But we both know the truth. Even last night when we were lying in bed, I bet if I'd reached out and touched you, you would've melted under my touch."

"Aren't you cocky?" she asked with a smirk, looking up into my eyes.

"Not especially. I'd say the proof is in the pudding."

"You're a real piece of work Northman."

"And you love it Stackhouse," I smirked.

"I don't."

"You do," I insisted closing the gap between us until our breath mingled in the warm, humid air.

"I don't," she repeated, her hands reaching out to clasp my shoulders.

"You do."

"Shut up," she commanded, pulling my face down the final inch until our lips met. The noise on the street melted around us as we clasped at each other, our tongues mingling lazily in their exploration. She let out a groan as my tongue swept the inside of her mouth.

I heard a series of catcalls from passersby, but ignored them all. The minute we touched again, something ignited in me. I wondered if there was a hotel nearby. We needed to take care of this problem, and we needed to take care of it now.

My hands roamed over the back of her dress, resting when they reached the small of her back to pull her against my length, moaning as she ground her hips against me.

"Northman," she panted against my mouth.

"What?" I asked, my mouth travelling to her ear.

"We can't."

"Why?"

"Not here."

"Then let's go somewhere else." I kneaded the curve of her hip, my lips never leaving her skin.

"We've got to meet… oh!" she exclaimed when I sucked her earlobe into my mouth.

"No," she said, pushing out of my reach. "No. We've got to meet… well, whoever it is we've got to meet."

"We can't keep doing this Stackhouse," I said, burying my hands into my pockets. "We can't work like this."

"No," she said shaking her head. "You're right. We can't. But we also can't take care of it right now."

She reached up and smoothed her hand over her hair, making sure it was in place before turning around and continuing down Grafton Street.

"Red," I called. "Red." No answer. "Sookie!"

She turned around briefly and gave me a smile as she shook her head. "Not here." She continued forward, and I had no choice but to follow her and try to return to a semblance of calm. Having a hard on to meet this other agent wouldn't do me any favors.

We walked in silence for a few minutes, Sookie a few steps ahead of me, just out of my reach. When we rounded the corner and Brown Thomas came into view, I heard Sookie's breath catch, even from the distance. She shot me a look over her shoulder before she took off running in the direction of the store.

I had no idea what she was doing – if she was running to something, or from it. I looked around quickly, my senses on high alert, but didn't see anything that would raise an alarm. That is until my eyes found Sookie again.

I watched as she ran towards the open arms of a man standing outside the brick store; watched as he swept her up and spun her around before setting her back on her feet and nuzzling her bare neck.

Yes. The alarm had been raised alright. I had no idea who this was, but I knew I disliked him already.

* * *

**AN**: Who's it gonna be? Any ideas? Never fear, the next chapter is already written - I won't leave y'all hanging for a month this time. A week maybe, but not a month!


	6. 6 The Source

**AN:** To all of you that guessed who it was... here's the answer...

* * *

**Chapter 6 – The Source**

"Put me down!" Red shrieked through a giggle as the man continued to swing her around. "I'm serious," she continued, though she sounded far from serious. Even so, that might be enough cause for me to punch this man in the face. For Red's safety, naturally.

Though, frankly, I wanted to throttle her as much as the mystery man. How she could go from melting in my arms moments ago; from promising to take care of our little problem soon; to being enamored with this man and groping him on the street was beyond me.

Fortunately – or possibly, unfortunately depending upon how you looked at it – the man set Red down on her feet shortly thereafter.

"Why didn't Sam tell me?" Red asked, her eyes never leaving the man's face.

"I wanted it to be a surprise," the man responded, his hands entirely too friendly as they roamed across Red's arms and back.

"Well you certainly got that." The smile on Red's face was ridiculous. I wanted to wipe it off and replace it with something else entirely. "What are you doing here?"

"Excellent question," I said, stepping forward until I could reach out and touch them, if I were so inclined. "And who exactly are you?"

"Oh, how rude of me!" Red said, her Southern accent thick. "I got so caught up in seeing you that I forgot my manners." She playfully smacked at the man's arm, before turning to face me. "Eric, this is Alcide."

The man assessed me with his cool green eyes before offering a hand. "Special Agent Herveaux," he said. Apparently, he was attempting to put me in my place. Funny.

"Northman," I responded, taking his hand. "Eric Northman." There was no need to classify my rank. People knew who I was.

Herveaux's eyes widened in recognition. "I wondered if you'd be on the case," he said, the admiration clear in his eyes. "When Sam told me he was working with the UNDK, I was hoping to get the chance to work with you."

Okay, the man had some taste, clearly. Maybe I wouldn't have to strangle him after all.

Red looked up and down the street, suddenly recalling the need for a little more privacy. "I suppose we should go somewhere…" she trailed off.

"I've got a place for us at Trinity College," Alcide said, tucking Red's hand in his own. "Follow me." Yes, maybe strangling was back on the table.

I walked behind the two of them, doing everything I could to stop myself from doing one of the hundreds of things I had been conditioned to do to kill on command. He was holding her hand. That was it. There was nothing more to it. She'd kissed me. She hadn't kissed him.

He led us across busy Nassau Street and through the large entrance to Trinity College. We walked through the quiet corridors – quiet since the summer session was on a long break – and entered a small room that appeared to be fitted with the latest technology.

"Please, be seated," Herveaux said, turning to face me.

Red looked at me for the first time since we left Grafton Street and offered me a tentative smile for reassurance, as if that would work. This Herveaux better have something good, and fast, or I was out of there. There was too much to do for the game with De Castro to waste time chit chatting.

"Alcide here is one of our technology experts," Sookie said, inclining her head in his direction. "He's really quite a genius."

And an asshole.

"Some call me that," he said with a shrug as he turned towards an open laptop computer. "I've been tracing the movement of Leclerq's money for the past couple of months."

"That is impossible," I said dismissively. We'd tried to do something similar, but there were too many layers to get a good grasp on the movement.

"Not his entire funds, naturally," Herveaux said. "But we have an agent on the inside of his shipping business." He looked in Sookie's direction, who in turn looked at me with a smile and a nod. "We've been able to trace some of the funds to two accounts. One is Swiss, and therefore impossible to get information about. The other, for whatever reason, is a little more open. It's housed in a bank in Lyons. Nothing major, mind you, but there have been some transfers with an account in Saudi Arabia, believed to be owned by Prince Rasul."

I nodded for him to continue. Prince Rasul had intermittent ties with Leclerq, though everything I'd followed had lead to a dead end.

"There was a transfer out of that account for $2.5 billion into a corporate account out of New Orleans. A business I've not heard of before. Though, after doing some research, it appears to be a company that is building a rather in depth database."

"What kind of database?" Red asked, leaning forward. Her dress dipped dangerously low over her cleavage; a movement that did not escape Alcide Herveaux's attention I noted.

"That's where it's tricky," he said, peeling his eyes away from Sookie's chest. "It appears to be a database of information about certain influential people around the world. We've only been able to tap into one profile, and that was Lorena, who as we all know, is no longer a player. I believe it is a listing of everyone Leclerq does business with – both in the underworld, and above the table. The information is rather in depth, horrifying really what they can list about these people. If we can crack it –"

"Then we'd have our in to nail Leclerq," I interjected. Was it possible that Leclerq had hired someone to compile this information? Or was it an outside source? "What makes you think its Leclerq's doing?"

"We're not sure," Herveaux said, meeting my gaze. "But Leclerq put some feelers out in the hacker communities last year, which seems too coincidental really."

I sat back and nodded, running through the information I knew about Leclerq's movements. We'd tried to place one of our agents in the pool, though they'd been quickly rejected by the agency Leclerq had used as a front.

"What makes this relevant right now?" I asked.

"I met someone who I believe is on the inside," he said. "She's a kind of…salesperson. She provided Lorena's profile as a sample to prospective buyers. I suppose Lorena was the most disposable, as evidenced by her demise."

"Apparently," Sookie said, looking utterly appalled. "Do we know who the creator of this is?"

"No. We suspect it's the man in the photos with Lorena that Sam showed you. That's something I'm hoping to find out over these next few days in Berlin while you two are in Monte Carlo." He shot me an envious look, or as envious a look as someone in his position would provide. I couldn't blame him. He had to go chase down a hacker in Germany, while I got to play house with Red in Monaco.

"Here's the file I've compiled on De Castro," he said, offering a folder to Red. "We'll meet up again in London in four days. I hope to have more answers then."

Sookie rose from her seat and went to offer Herveaux her goodbyes, which lingered a bit too long if you asked me, and we turned around and left quietly.

The streets were busier than they had been when we walked into Trinity – the business people let out early to enjoy the summer day with a pint or two. We didn't speak as we climbed into the waiting car, which brought us back to the private airfield where our jet was waiting, ready and fuelled.

"What's the story?" I asked finally when we were airborne and headed south.

"What do you mean?" Red asked.

"You and Herveaux. What's the story?"

"There is no story," she said simply, though she avoided my eyes.

"You can't lie to me," I said. "I know your ticks. What's the story?"

She closed her eyes and sunk back into the leather chair. "We used to be together."

"And…?" I asked.

"And we aren't anymore."

"Clearly the split was amicable by the way you were all over each other."

"We were not!" she insisted. "I haven't seen him in ages. But yes, the split was amicable. Our jobs got in the way."

It happened. Despite everything you intended, there was no easy way to maintain a relationship when one of you had to travel all over the world and do whatever it took to seduce information out of another.

"Were you serious?"

"We were engaged," she said, looking over at me. "We called it off the week before our wedding."

"Who called it off?"

"I told you, we both did."

"Bullshit. Who called it off?"

"I did," she said. "I thought I could do it. Really I did. But I couldn't. I had been on a mission in Jakarta, and had to…well, let's just say use my wiles to get some information out of someone. I didn't think Alcide would approve. No. I knew he wouldn't approve. He'd been getting antsy himself. He was newer to the agency than I was, hadn't the experience I did. It was for the best."

"And he still loves you," I stated.

"What?" she gasped. "No. No he doesn't."

"He does," I insisted. "I saw the way he was looking at you."

She waved her hand over her face in dismissal. "You were reading into it. We've worked together since. Nothing has happened."

"I suppose I should say that's good then."

"Yes. Yes you should."

**Monte Carlo - 43°44****′****23****″****N 7°25****′****38****″E**

The blue water sparkled as it crashed against the cliffs, the juxtaposition of textures especially noticeable in the fading sunlight as I watched from the private balcony of our hotel room. The noise of a door opening caught my attention to my left, and I instinctively turned to determine the source. I watched in amusement as a young couple came out onto their balcony, their hands and lips never leaving one another.

They were clearly privileged – one could not afford to stay at a place like this unless they were. The woman's hair whipped in the gentle breeze, which carried her laughter in my direction. I turned away, feeling it was the appropriate thing to do. Despite their penchant for voyeurism, the last thing I needed or wanted was to be reminded of that.

While Red had as much as agreed that we needed to scratch our itch, it had yet to happen. We had arrived in Monte Carlo late in the evening after departing Dublin, and Red fell into a deep sleep – exhausted from our lack of sleep the night before, and the tiring travel schedule.

She'd been gone by the time I had awoken the next day, though there was a note on the pillow beside me that she had left to shop for tonight's festivities. One didn't exactly have appropriate clothing to wear to a poker game where the minimum stakes were half a million Euro rolling around in their suitcase. Well, I should say most people didn't. I knew better, and always had a tuxedo with me when I travelled. It was often difficult finding something that would fit a man of my height – and there was a vast difference between a tailored tuxedo and one that was purchased off the shelf; and these men would know that difference.

The remainder of the day yesterday had been spent separately; each of us trying to find something, anything that would help lead us to Leclerq. Nothing had. And while I was buzzing with energy, I would have liked to work off in a special manner with Red; she had insisted that we needed our rest before the big poker game. I was sure I would be more relaxed letting go of some of this tension while buried inside of her, I wasn't going to push the issue.

Sookie was in the shower when I stepped back inside from the balcony, beginning her preparation for the evening. The game started at nine, which gave us two hours to get there. I heard the faucet turn off and Sookie move behind the closed bathroom door.

"You're sure you don't need any help in there?" I called out. "I'd be willing to help however I can. Wash your hair… scrub your back?" I added suggestively.

"I've got it," she called back with a laugh and continued her preparations. I heard the clinking of bottles as she began her beauty routine. It would be especially long tonight, given the high stakes of the evening.

I turned and began to get ready myself, and began to wonder what she'd come out looking like tonight. Would she be blonde? Brunette? Or would she return to that flaming hair that had caught my attention in the first place. In any case, I was sure it would take all of my concentration to stay on the game instead of on her. But I would do it.

Forty minutes later and the bathroom door slid open. The first thing I saw was leg – miles and miles of it exposed beneath a pale yellow dress that was slit up to nearly her waist. My eyes traveled up the expanse of her leg, taking in everything from the sheerness of her silk stockings, to the smooth lines that suggested a lack of undergarments; up past the neckline that hinted at her exceptional cleavage, to the decorated straps that covered her shoulders and the natural blonde hair that she'd pinned up artfully.

She spun around, revealing the black bow that tied in the middle of her back, leaving the rest of her back exposed. I let out a quiet groan of appreciation as she smoothed out the fabric over her backside and glanced at me over her shoulder, offering me one of her trademark grins. "Do you think this will do?" she asked.

"Red," I said. "If the stakes weren't as high as they are tonight, I'd rip that dress right off you and have you right now, and there would be nothing that would stop me."

Her eyes widened and the laughter was wiped off her face, replaced with longing. "You don't look so bad yourself," she said, trying to keep it light. Her eyes raked over my body, taking in every tailored inch of my tuxedo, up to the hair I'd gelled off my face.

"Shall we," I said, offering her an arm. We had to get out of this hotel room before I made good on my promise and we didn't make it to the Casino. I could just image R's reaction to that news.

The air was warm and fragrant when we stepped outside of our hotel. The Casino was within walking distance, and visible from the front of our hotel. I felt Red shiver beneath me as I placed a hand on the small of her bare back and knew it wasn't from cold. When we stepped into the casino and I saw the looks she received, I leaned in until my lips were on her ear. "We're finishing this," I said. "Tonight."

I pulled back and led her along the path towards the high stakes area of the casino. There were bodyguards on either side of the large doorway, allowing admittance only to those who could proffer the engraved invitation that had been waiting for me at our hotel room, made out to Mr. and Mrs. James St John Smythe.

"Mr. Smythe," a young, buxom woman said after we were ushered inside. "Mr. de Castro has been waiting to meet you."

I looked beyond her to the man sitting at the poker table. The man that sat there commanded the room, his caramel colored skin belying his Latin heritage as much as his dark eyes and hair. He looked much like the profile picture provided by the UNDK, though the charisma wasn't carried across the camera lens. He had two women draped on either side of him; both beautiful by anyone's standards.

"Wow," Red said under her breath. De Castro had spotted Sookie in return, and was giving her a leisurely glance, his eyes stopping on her breasts. Wandering eye indeed.

"Darling," the young woman who had greeted us at the door said when we were at de Castro's table. "This is Mr. Smythe."

De Castro's eyes widened slightly with recognition as he stood to greet me. "What a pleasure it is to finally meet you," he said, his accent thick but understandable. "I was wondering when I would meet the mysterious Mr. Smythe. And who is this delicious creature?" he asked, turning his gaze back to Red.

"Rachel," Red said, offering her hand. "Rachel Fitzsimmons."

De Castro took Sookie's hand in his and leaned down to brush his lips across it. "What an enchanting creature," he said.

"Thank you," she replied, offering a calm smile.

"Come, Ms. Fitzsimmons, do sit down and chat with me while Smythe here gets you a drink." There were scantily clad cocktail waitresses everywhere, eager for nothing more than to get a drink for the select patrons, but I knew a cue when I got it. He wanted Sookie alone, and I had to let him have her. She could take care of herself.

"Of course," I said with a slight nod before spinning on my heel.

The next few hours went by quickly. When I returned with Sookie's cocktail, the start of the game was announced. De Castro reluctantly let Sookie out of his sight to turn his attention to the game at hand. He was a man who loved women, but loved gambling more.

The game was intense, with bids higher than most people make in a year thrown out in the first hand. I surveyed the group at the table – there were eight of us to start with, most of whom had easy tells. De Castro was more difficult to figure out, but even he had his ticks.

Sookie wandered around with the other ladies as the game progressed, stopping by the table on the occasional breaks to whisper in my ear and offer de Castro a glimpse of her impressive cleavage. It appeared to be a good distraction, for every time she stopped by, it took him longer to get his head back into the game.

At the end of the game, it came down to a hand between de Castro and myself, and after a tense moment, I won with triple aces to de Castro's tripe Kings. I had single-handedly tripled the investment that Merlotte had been so concerned about.

"Excellent Smythe," de Castro said, though the warmth didn't meet his eyes. "It appears that you are leaving with all the prizes tonight." His eyes traveled to Sookie, who had come to perch herself on my knee after the last had was determined.

"So it appears," I replied.

"You'll have to allow me the opportunity to win it back in the near future," he said.

"Of course," I said with a nod.

"I would enjoy having both of you." The look he gave me suggested that he didn't mean only over for dinner. Interesting.

Sookie, much more able to respond than I was in this type of situation, did so. "That would be lovely," she said, her voice full of innocence.

"I'm having a soiree in London next week," de Castro said, lowering his voice. "Fancy dress and all that. It would be amusing if the two of you could make it. Lots of people will be there." I had heard of de Castro's fancy dress parties. The one thing that held consistent was that one didn't keep their clothing on for long. It was very underground, and getting an invitation was nearly impossible, though it was rumored that Leclerq himself attended them.

"We'd love to come," Sookie said, and I nearly choked on my drink. Either she didn't have a clue what type of party it was, or she was the best actress I'd ever met.

"Excellent," de Castro said with a grin. "I will send details over to your hotel tomorrow morning." He stood up and pushed away from the chair. He bid us farewell, his hands lingering as he offered Sookie a kiss on each cheek.

"Oh my God!" Sookie exclaimed, the minute the door to our suite closed behind us. "Did that just happen?" she asked, spinning around to face me.

"Did what just happen?"

"Did we get invited to one of de Castro's parties?"

I quirked my eyebrow. "Do you know about his parties?"

"How could I not know about his parties?" she asked, and shook her head at me. "They're famous. Or, infamous. I met a woman who had been to one once. She was a call girl, very high class. Someone took her. She said it was unimaginable. Men and women everywhere, doing everything…" she trailed off.

"I didn't realize you were into that," I said with a smirk.

"I'm not," she insisted. "Really, I'm not. But that is huge! Leclerq supposedly goes to all of them."

I nodded. "So I've heard."

"We could be in the same room with Leclerq next week!" she said.

"Yes," I replied, easing out of my tuxedo jacket. As exciting as this news was – and it was exciting, I was fairly sure R would show some emotion when I told her about this – I had something else on my mind. Something I hadn't been able to stop thinking about all night.

I tossed my tuxedo jacket over the back of the couch and picked up the phone. I smiled when Red looked at me questionably. "One bottle of Dom Perignon," I said into the receiver. "Two glasses." I hung up.

"Celebrating?"

"You could say that." I sat on the couch and began to unlace my shoes, gently removing them one by one as Sookie watched in silence.

The knock on the door was quick, an example of the service provided by this hotel. I grabbed the champagne bucket and glasses from the delivery man's hands, slipping him a rather hefty tip for his punctuality and closing the door firmly behind me.

I uncorked the champagne without saying a word, and handed Sookie the first glass I filled, raising my own when the bubbles had settled down. She looked slightly confused as she followed through with the toast, and sipped her champagne.

When I finished my glass, I set it down and took a step towards her, my hand trailing down the bare length of her arm. Her breath hitched as my fingers traveled lightly across her shoulder and down her back to the bow in the middle. With my free hand, I took her now empty champagne flute and set it down next to mine.

"Eric?" she asked breathily. "What – "

"Shhh," I said, spinning her around so that her back was in front of me. In one swift movement, I pulled the loose end of the black velvet ribbon that held her dress together. I traced the straps of her dress, pushing them down her arms until the fabric folded at her waist. She was wearing a strapless bra that matched the color of her skin, for all appearances making her look naked.

"Red," I whispered, placing a kiss on her bare shoulder as my hands circled her waist and traveled up to clasp her breasts.

Her breath came out in shudders as my thumbs brushed against her nipples. "Eric…" she started.

"I told you we were going to finish this tonight," I said between nips at her neck and ear. I unhooked the clasp of her bra and watched as it fell to the floor in front of her. My hands travelled lower, finding the nearly invisible zipper that was the thing holding the dress up. That soon too was undone, and I helped her step out of her dress, placing it gingerly on top of my tuxedo jacket.

She spun around to face me, her eyes heavy with desire. "Let's do this," she said, reaching out and unbuttoning the tiny buttons on my shirt with practiced ease. In a matter of minutes, we had each other completely undressed, her hands and mouth traveling over my skin as we made our way into the bedroom.

I groaned when she pushed me back on the bed and circled my erection with her hands. I let out my own string of groans when her mouth followed thereafter. The woman was talented in all arenas, it appeared. I stopped her before she could bring me to completion, wanting more. There would be time for that later. Plenty of time. For now, I wanted to be in her.

She cried out when I entered her, and met each of my movements with her own. Her back arched as she writhed beneath me. We rolled together until she was in control, her body moving over mine at an increasingly frenzied pace. My hands roamed over her body, cupping her breasts and journeying further south until they reached the apex of her thighs, and the pressure I applied with my thumbs causing her to spill over the top.

She said my name, along with a number of curses as she came, her head falling backwards as she rode out the sensations. I continued to move beneath her until I too gave in to the building pleasure, letting the sounds of my satisfaction out in a series of loud groans.

When we were both complete, our bodies heavy with exhaustion and slick with perspiration, she rolled to her side, resting her head on the junction of my shoulder and arm.

"We finished that," she said, after some time.

"No Red," I said, smiling up to the ceiling. "We've only just begun."

* * *

**AN:** They did it! They did it! They really really did it!


	7. Chapter 7 – An Unexpected Turn of Events

**AN:** Can you believe it? The super spy isn't dead at all, just returning from a brief hiatus (ahem, two months). I won't bother to say anything else, but thank you for sticking around and waiting for his return. Hope you enjoy what unfolds below:

**Chapter 7 – An Unexpected Turn of Events**

I awoke slowly; a pleasure I did not often allow myself. I smiled to myself before my eyes opened, fully aware of the weight of the body strewn across my own, the tickle of hair that lay across my chest. The owner of said hair let out a small sigh in her sleep, nuzzling her face against my shoulder. She let out a breath in a whoosh of air, which danced across my chest and caused my abdomen to tighten in anticipation.

I slowly opened my eyes, looking down at the woman draped across me, able to arouse me even in her sleep.

Red.

I had known that it would be good between us again. Sex didn't spark hot only once; no, something just clicked with the two of us. And, speaking as a man of experience, I could genuinely say that Red was incomparable, in or out of the bedroom.

We'd fallen asleep as the sun peeked over the horizon, unable to stop our exploration of each other until our muscles could move no more. Though even in sleep, she'd wrapped herself around me, encompassing my body with her skin and scent.

A boat's horn sounded off the coast, a distant disturbance to the otherwise quiet morning, or rather afternoon. I chuckled when I saw the clock read one-thirty. Yes, we'd certainly managed to catch up on our sleep.

Sookie made a sound, a sort of whimper, and lifted her head up to look at me.

"What time is it?" she asked, her voice scratchy with sleep and the remnants of the evening's champagne.

"One-thirty," I answered, smiling when she balled her fists beneath her chin and shook her head.

"I don't think I've slept that late since I was in college!" she exclaimed. "I suppose I should feel very guilty about being so lazy." She made no move to leave her position on top of me; apparently she didn't feel guilty enough to move.

"You needed your rest," I replied with a smirk. "I imagine you felt pretty worn out after last night's –"

"Sextravaganza?" she asked with a laugh. "Yes, I'd say I feel deliciously worn out. I feel like every muscle in my body has been liquefied."

"Mmm," I groaned, running my hand down her hair and trailing lower until my hand rested on her bare behind. "Even this one?" I asked, squeezing the flesh beneath my fingers.

She giggled, nodding as she sat up and dislodged my hand. "Even that one," she nodded. She sat back on her heels, the afternoon light spilling through the windows and covering her golden skin. She sat naked in front of me, unselfconscious of her body displayed before me. My eyes swept down the length of her neck, stopping at the slope of her breasts.

I opened my mouth to suggest we test our strength one more time when Sookie jumped out of bed, looking alert.

"What's that?" she asked, walking towards the door and stooping down to pick up a white envelope.

"Don't open-" I said, sitting up suddenly. In this day and age, one never knew what was going to be waiting inside an otherwise innocuous looking white envelope.

She laughed, waving her hand dismissively at me as she ripped it open and made her way back to the bed. She sat down rather unceremoniously on the foot of the bed and pulled out a plain white card.

"Oh my," she said, placing a hand on her naked chest. She lifted her eyes to meet mine, a triumphant smile on her face. "We're in."

I caught the card as it came flying through the air towards me, shaking my head at Sookie as my eyes read the simple black script. It did not say what it was, though I suppose we both knew without being told. There was a date – three days away – and an address in one of London's posh neighborhoods.

We'd been officially invited to one of Felipe de Castro's adult parties.

**London - 51° 31' 53'' N 0° 9' 37'' W**

The woman who sat next to me in the neat black cab was a woman I knew well – intimately even. Yet, in her stark white trench coat, with her hair twisted in intricate knots, she looked like a complete stranger. The rounded curves of her figure had been restrained by the corset I knew she wore underneath – and I knew better than anyone that she was wearing little else but the corset underneath. This wasn't your typical soiree; no, this was the entry to the underworld of Leclerq's making. You did not come to this party to see and be seen; you came to do and, in most cases, be done.

Sookie smiled across the cab at me, lifting the lacy black mask she'd found as her disguise. "Shall I put this on now?" she asked.

I looked out the window at the row of familiar townhouses. "Yes, we are almost there."

"Help me?" she asked, holding the mask out towards me. I took it from her hands, the brush of her fingers sending a shock through my body. You would think that after a solid four days of exploring each other's bodies, something as simple as a brush of her fingers wouldn't arouse me, but it did.

She turned in the seat away from me, looking over her shoulder briefly before turning straight ahead. I looked down at the mask that lay limply in my fingers, the almost sheer lace a stark contrast to the rough edges of my finger tips.

Leaning forward, I brushed my lips along the back of her exposed ear. I felt her body shudder against mine, leaning back ever so briefly. "Not now Northman," she said breathily.

"We're on our way to an orgy," I whispered. "Now seems like the perfect time."

"We're on a job," she pointed out.

"At an orgy," I quipped. "One should expect to be feeling turned on at the prospect, shouldn't they?"

She shook her head, though didn't turn around. "I do not need an invitation only orgy to want to have sex with you Northman. I should have thought my visit to your shower would have proved that."

"That it did, Red." I smiled against her hair as I recalled the rather welcome interruption to my shower, the way the soap suds had clung to her body, dripping off the tips of her breasts enticingly. The water had gone cold by the time we were done, which was quite a feat considering the size of the water tank in our hotel room. But even the sudden cold of the water hadn't deterred us.

"As much as I'd like nothing more than to have you ravish me all night," she continued, "we have to be alert."

"I am well aware of my duties, Red," I said.

"As am I," she responded.

"And," I whispered, pressing a kiss against her ear. "Sometimes I get paid to do things I always wanted to do, like tonight for instance." I sat back, draping the lace mask across her eyes and tying it in a neat, efficient bow. "Tonight, I get to walk into an exclusive adult party with you; get to touch you as much as I want, and no one will say a god damned thing about it."

She stilled as my hands came to rest on her shoulders, the car pulling to a stop.

"Eric," she said, barely above a whisper.

"Yes?" I asked.

She shook her head, turning to face me. "Nothing," she said. "Nothing." She reached into the inside pocket of my tuxedo, pulling out the plain black mask and offering it to me.

"Time to go to work."

.

We were greeted at the door by a woman wearing a revealing dress. Even so, I was sure that it had more fabric than most of the party-goers were wearing combined.

Sookie reached into the small bag she was carrying and gave the woman the white invitation.

"Mr. Smythe," the woman said, a brilliant smile on her face as she surveyed me. "Ms. Fitzsimmons," she nodded in Red's direction. "I am Claudine. Welcome to the Seven Sins." She inclined her head to a pair of dark, heavy curtains behind her.

"Allow me to take your coat Ms. Fitzsimmons," she continued, walking around to tug Red's trench off her shoulders. When it was fully removed, Claudine's eyes trailed over Sookie's scantily clad form appreciatively.

Claudine turned to face me. "No phones or cameras are allowed inside, naturally."

"Naturally," I repeated with a nod, reaching into my pocket and offering the blackberry R had provided for this exact purpose.

"Ms. Fitzsimmons?" Claudine asked, turning back to Red.

Sookie looked down at the purse in her hands and shrugged, extending her arm to Claudine and letting go of the small clutch that held her phone and a tube of lipstick.

"Excellent," Claudine said with a nod, placing our belongings in a bin marked with the same number that had been on our invitation. "We did provide you with the emergency number on the invitation, should anything arise. Likewise, you are free to return here if you need to make contact with the outside, though it is our fondest desire that you should be otherwise occupied."

Sookie nodded, taking a step closer to me. "Rasul will take you inside," she said, the man appearing at her side as if by magic. "From here in, you may determine your identity. No one need know who you truly are."

That was, indeed, what we were hoping for.

Rasul stepped in front of us, parting the curtains and instructing us to pass before him. The world beyond the curtains lay in stark contrast to what we had just left. Gone was the friendly, efficient foyer with its organized coat check and smiling hostess. The world we stepped into was dominated by a large staircase, illuminated by hundreds of candles on every step.

"Follow me," Rasul instructed, approaching the stairs. A sensual thump filled the air, music pouring out of hidden speakers that increased in volume as we ascended to the party itself. Red reached back and clasped my hand in hers, squeezing it tightly as we proceeded to the second set of curtains above us.

Rasul paused at the top of the landing, turning to smile at both of us before parting the curtain and ushering us inside.

He did not follow this time, the curtain falling silently behind us. A glass of champagne was immediately thrust into my hand by a woman wearing high heels and little else, but even she too disappeared before much could be said.

I looked over at Sookie and watched as her eyes surveyed the landscape before us. A sparkling chandelier fell from the ceiling, casting a dim light over the large room. There were people everywhere, in every state of dress and undress, though no one was doing anything inappropriate for a drawing room; at least not in this room.

"It's really no different than any other party," Red said, whispering in my ear.

"How so?" I asked with a smirk.

"There are women gossiping," she inclined her head towards a couch filled with six ladies deep in conversation. "Men boasting," her head moved in the other direction, towards two men that were obviously trying to one up each other. "And of course the people desperate for attention." She looked forward, my eyes following hers towards two women and a men who were wearing absolutely nothing but various shades of body paint.

"I suppose that's true," I said with a chuckle.

"Orgy or not," she continued. "It's all the same people."

She reached down, reclaiming my hand in hers. "Shall we?" she asked, tossing the champagne back.

I nodded, allowing her to lead us through the maze of people to the outlying rooms. Every room we walked into was done up to show one of the deadly sins, and every room had active and willing participants doing their best to illustrate the sins for any passersby.

I heard Sookie's breath speed up at the sight of the naked bodies before us, my body responding to her reaction almost instantaneously. She had proved herself adventurous in these past few days, but I wouldn't have thought this was exactly her cup of tea.

In the room identified as 'greed', she pushed me against the wall, running her hands over the length of my body as her lips sought mine. I felt her smile against my lips, unable to see much in the near darkness of the room.

"What?" I groaned as her hands neared the waistband of my pants.

"Just thinking how fitting it is to be in this particular room with you."

"Is that so?" I asked, trailing my lips down to her neck.

"Mmm, yes," she nodded. "Quite fitting."

My fingers danced across the top of her corset, teasing the flesh that it pressed high and eliciting a groan from the lips that had been on mine seconds ago. I was about to dip them lower when a deep voice behind me interrupted us.

"I say," the accented voice said, "is that you Rachel?"

I groaned, slowly righting myself and turning to see the one man who I never cared to see again.

"Yes," Red said lowly, though I could see her eyes burning behind the mask. "What are you doing here…?"

"Michael." I quirked my eyebrow, slowly shaking my head in Agent Herveaux's direction. What in the hell was he doing here? Why would R send a second team in, and more importantly, how did they manage to garner an invitation when we had worked so hard to get one?

"Oh yes, Michael," Red said, mouthing the name to herself. He leaned down and brushed a lingering kiss on her cheek, his eyes daring me to do something when he righted himself. It was apparent that he hadn't enjoyed the show we'd put on nearly as much as I had.

"You remember James?" she asked, turning her head towards me.

"Of course," Alcide said, giving me a curt nod. "How could I forget?" He turned back to face Red. "I must say, you are looking entirely delectable this evening."

I saw the flush rise above the edge of Sookie's corset, balling my hands in fists to keep from doing what I wanted to do. I didn't like that he could get that reaction from her. Yes, he had been with her as well, and no, I wasn't the type that normally cared about things like that; but he was taunting me, and he knew it.

"Thank you," she said, biting her lower lip.

"Allow me to introduce my guest for the evening," Alcide said, taking a step back. My eyes shifted to the small brunette behind him, and I found myself cursing under my breath. I had allowed myself to get so caught up in Sookie that I hadn't even noticed the woman who had been watching the entire show. "Jessica," he said, holding his hand out to the familiar woman next to him.

My eyes widened as I took in the fabric covering Amelia Carmichael's body. She had never been much on modesty, and what better place to show it than at one of Felipe de Castro's famed parties?

We feigned introductions, all acting the part of casual acquaintances with ease. It was only when Alcide – excuse me, Michael – requested Sookie to accompany him to another room, that anything felt strained.

"You don't mind, do you old chum?" Alcide asked, his accent grating on my every last nerve. "There's something I need to show her."

"Of course not," I replied through clenched teeth. We would have to split up at some point, it was inevitable. We would never find anything if we stayed with each other, and parties like this weren't for staying with your partner, they were for exploring foreign territory. I shouldn't have any problem letting Red wander off with another man, but then again Alcide wasn't just any other man. He had been her fiancé, he had been her partner.

"I believe Jessica here will be more than happy to keep you company."

"Quite happy. Ecstatic even," Amelia purred, slinking up next to me. Her arm snaked around my waist, trailing down to give my backside a firm squeeze.

Sookie looked over her shoulder at me as Alcide led her away, and even through the lace of the mask I saw her eyes squint in Amelia's direction.

"James, is it?" Amelia asked, pulling my attention down to her.

"Yes," I nodded.

"Would you care to escort me into Lust?"

I blinked down at her, setting my lips firmly and giving her a slight nod. She didn't wait for a verbal response, grabbing my hand and pulling me almost roughly along with her. She was on a mission, though what the end game was, I could only guess.

Lust was dark, a red light casting shadows across every corner of the room. Like the other rooms before, there were couples doing every sexual act imaginable on the beds that had been laid out for that exact use. Women, men, groups, their bodies entwined in an unending knot. It was a scene that I would have enjoyed, and even joined, on any other day, but not tonight. There was too much at stake, what with the possibility of Leclerq in the same building, and Red being off God knows where. At least I knew that Alcide would look out for her.

Amelia stopped at a bed occupied by two women, tugging my hand until I sat on the edge. She looked over her shoulder at me with a bawdy smile before leaning down to join them. I watched silently as their hands roamed over each other, wondering what Amelia had brought me here for. It wasn't like her to leave me out, and she was never one to do something without a purpose. I scanned the faces of the two women, or at least what I could see as they moved against one another.

Amelia's brunette hair was nearly an exact match to one of the women, the one who was smaller in frame. I had yet to see her face, though I knew that time would fix that. The third woman came up and smiled at me, her blond hair falling over her eyes. She was no one of importance, that much I knew. It was only when the faceless woman sat up and faced me that I realized our purpose.

She crawled across the bed towards me, her breasts swaying with each movement. "Are you not going to join us?" she asked in accented English. She was beautiful, though coldly so, and a woman whose picture I had seen more times than I could count.

She stopped when her knees touched mine, leaning forward until our breath intermingled. "Did no one tell you it was rude to watch?"

I shook my head, swallowing visibly. "It is." She leaned closer, until her lips were practically touching mine, and reached down to grab my hand. "You cannot come to Felipe's parties and not participate." She took my hand in hers and placed it on her bare breast, rubbing her body against mine and smiling with pleasure. "Do I not please you?" she whispered when my hand remained still.

I forced my fingers to do what she wanted, forced myself to respond when her lips met mine. I had been with many women, too many to count, but never one with the reputation of the brunette in my hands. Sophie-Anne had been the elusive piece to the puzzle that I had been trying to solve for years, and now that she was here with me, I felt frozen, even if only momentarily.

I allowed her to climb onto my lap, straddling me as she rubbed herself against me. My body responded, though how it could not, I did not know. "You know," she whispered, as she nibbled on my ear. "I do not normally go for men."

"No?" I grunted, my hands flying up of their own volition to play with the soft skin of her back. I knew, of course I knew, that Sophie-Anne liked women. It was her calling card, and how she managed to recruit so many of the beauties of Leclerq's army.

"No," she said. "With the exception of one man, you are the only man who I have let touch me in five years."

I forced myself to continue my exploration of her body, using my years of training to hide the excitement I felt over her mention of Leclerq.

"Why?" I asked, watching as she pulled at the edge of my bowtie.

"I do not know," she said, working her fingers furiously as they undid the buttons on my shirt. "There is something about you. You are handsome," she pressed her lips to my throat, "though what man tonight isn't? There's something mysterious about you. Something I want to find out."

I groaned when her hands reached the buckle of my pants. How far did I want to take this? There were things one had to do on this job, things that I normally wouldn't bat an eyelash at. But this was Leclerq's right hand, the woman he sent out to do his dirty work. She had spilled blood before; not for business, or the greater good, but for pleasure. Despite my body's response at her touch, I did not think even I could pretend to enjoy what she was asking for.

I felt the weight of the bed sink next to me and turned my head, my eyes meeting the familiar blue orbs of the woman I had arrived with. It would have been like a fantasy come true, if Alcide's lips weren't attached to her throat.

She raised her eyebrow at me sardonically, daring me to say something. When I did not, her eyes shifted to Sophie-Anne, who had successfully undone my pants and was pushing at the edge furiously.

"Do you mind if we join?" Alcide asked in Sophie-Anne's direction, though his hands and lips never left Sookie's body.

Sophie-Anne sat up on my lap, her eyes gleaming as she took in Red and shook her head. "The more the merrier." She scooted off my lap, leaving my pants flapping open as she turned her attention to the new couple.

"Who are you?" she asked, moving in between Alcide and Sookie. I had never thought I would want to thank Sophie-Anne, but it took everything in me to keep my mouth shut.

"Rachel," Sookie said, smiling innocently at the naked woman who was practically on her lap. "Who are you?"

"Sophie-Anne," she responded, tugging at Sookie's hand until she was firmly dislodged from Alcide's lap and sprawled on top of her own.

I sat back and watched as Sophie-Anne trailed her hand down Sookie's shoulder, toying with the flesh I had touched before. I would have thought that seeing this would make me feel anything but the desire to get out of there, but that's exactly what I felt. I did not want to see Sophie-Anne touch Sookie. I didn't want to see anyone touch Sookie. I closed my eyes, attempting to re-center myself. My personal life would not play a role in tonight's mission. If Sookie had to sleep with Sophie-Anne to get the information we needed, then so be it.

"Sophie-Anne," a feminine voice said, with a pout. I opened my eyes to see the blonde that had been occupying Amelia looking at Sophie-Anne with a frown. "I thought we agreed that you wouldn't touch another woman without me."

Sophie-Anne's eyes closed, her hands stilling on Sookie's breasts. "Hadley," she said, then dropped her hands. "You were otherwise occupied."

"I do not want to be 'otherwise occupied'," Hadley spat. "You promised. You said that without Andre here, you'd pay attention to me."

"Hadley!" Sophie-Anne barked. "I told you not to mention him." Her eyes were icy, glittering orbs as she looked at the blonde woman and then back to Sookie and myself. "You'll have to excuse me," she said, dislodging herself from the mass of bodies around her. "It appears my guest has forgotten her place. Rachel," she said, leaning forward and brushing a kiss across her lips, "I do so hope we meet again." And with that, they were gone, leaving Amelia, Sookie, Alcide and myself in a rather precarious state on the bed.

"Well," Sookie said under her breath, "I wasn't expecting that."

"No one was," I said, shaking my head. We had learned that Leclerq wasn't here, which would have been disappointing if one of the messengers hadn't returned a minute later with a hand scribbled note for Sookie. It appeared that Sophie-Anne wasn't ready to give up quite so easily. On the paper was an address, and an appointed time in two days for Sookie to meet her there.

Sookie looked up from the paper triumphantly before tucking it into the front of her corset.

"I say, James," she said. "I am feeling quite exhausted. Care to take me home?"

Claudine efficiently gathered our belongings, giving me a disappointed look of longing as she told us a car would be waiting outside for us. It appeared that not many of the guests had decided to call it an early night as we had, but we had garnered all of the information we would be getting that evening. It was best to get out as quickly as possible, less room for error that way.

I opened the door of the waiting car, following Sookie inside and sitting next to her.

The ride back to our hotel was in silence. The things I had to say, the things I had to ask, weren't appropriate for a ride in a car not hired by us.

We walked across the lobby of the hotel hand in hand, partially because it would be expected of a couple returning from an evening out, but mainly because I needed to touch her.

We stepped into the elevator, Sookie leaning down to push the button for our floor. The doors slid closed in front of us.

"What were Alcide and Amelia doing there?" I asked, looking ahead. I felt her shift beside me, and when I looked over, saw that she was pulling the pins from her hair.

"Do you really care?" she asked.

"Yes," I replied tersely, "I really do."

"Sam thought it would be good to have another team there. Two more sets of eyes."

"So he sent Amelia Carmichael?"

Sookie shrugged, running her fingers through her hair as the door opened on our floor. "She had an invitation. Beggars can't be choosers."

She walked down the hall to our door in front of me, the only sound the slight swish of her trench coat. She pushed the door to our room open and stepped inside.

"What did Alcide want with you?" I asked, trying to disguise the emotion in my voice as I shut the door behind me.

"Why?" she asked, turning to face me. "Jealous?"

I stared at her silently, scouring her face in the light cast from the living room behind her. "Yes," I said, barely above a whisper.

She was on top of me before I could move, her mouth pressed hot against my face and neck in a frenzied pace. "How," she panted, "do you think I felt…" Her hands were everywhere, tugging at the buttons of my shirt until it fell behind me. "When I saw that woman's hands on you? When I saw her lips on yours?"

I fumbled with the buttons on her trench coat, grunting in satisfaction when the last button was released and I had pushed it down her shoulders.

"Duty called," I said, returning my lips to hers as my hands intertwined in her hair. "And," I said, moving my lips to her ear, "you kissed her yourself."

She groaned, closing her eyes and tilting her head back, offering me an expanse of her long neck.

"Make me forget," she whimpered. "For tonight. Make me forget about her lips on you."

And I set about doing just that.

.

The next morning, sitting up in bed with Sookie draped over my body, the light streaming in through the window, I opened up the paper to see a familiar face looking back at me. It hadn't been familiar before the night before, and it was a face I would never see again. In fact, no one would ever see that face again.

I sat up, jolting Sookie from her lazy exploration of my chest with her fingers.

"What is it?" she asked.

I didn't say a word, instead pointing to the headline and the picture below.

**American Student's Body Found in the Thames**

"That's…" Sookie gasped.

I nodded.

The picture wasn't of the corpse, no paper would print something like that, but the photograph accompanying the headline was of a smiling young woman. A smiling blonde young woman, who had last been seen leaving with Sophie-Anne.

**AN: ***ducks* Don't kill me. I'm going to try to be better about updating.


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